I could think whatever I wanted to, but realized that any promises I made myself were destined to be broken.

Energy can't be destroyed, only converted into something different. So when a person dies, where does that energy go?

Nathaniel closes his eyes and jumps, his arms glued to his sides like that fly's. He doesn't try to break his fall, just hits hard, because it hurts less than everything else.

Me, I was already jaded and tarnished, skeptical that a fantasy world could keep reality at bay.

If it had been easy for Romeo to get to Juliet, nobody would have cared. Same goes for Cyrano and Don Quixote and Gatsby and their respective paramours. What captures the imagination is watching men throw themselves at a brick wall over and over again, and wondering if this is the time that they won't be able to get back up.

In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn; color your hair; watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five. In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world; or you can just jump off it.

I sometimes wonder if it is just me, or if there are other women who figure out where they are supposed to be by going nowhere.