He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.

I've always admired your rather formidable will, your refusal to back away from difficulties, but sometimes strength isn't about perseverance. Sometimes it's about knowing when to quit.

Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.

I listened as the words became sentences and the sentences became pages and the pages became feelings and voices and places and people.

I was only glad to be saved and never once thought to ask why.

Airports should all belong to the same country. The country of Crappacia. Or Bleakovania. Or Suckitan.

I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.