I am happy to report that in the war between reality and romance, reality is not the stronger.
I'll want to hear,' Samuel said. 'I eat stories like grapes.
These too are of a burning color--not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.
What hidden, hoarded longings there are in all of us.
A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down the river.
A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody.