Nightfall. “What a strange word. ‘Night’ I get. But ‘fall’ is a gentle word. Autumn leaves fall, swirling with languid grace To carpet the earth with their dying blaze. Tears fall, like liquid diamonds Shimmering softly, before they melt away. Night doesn’t fall here. It comes slamming down.

Will an hour be enough?” An hour implied that I needed a lot of help. “I’ll see what I can do,” I said coolly. I was ready in twenty minutes.

He'd surely been spawned by some cataclysmic event of nature, not born.

I want you to go to the Ancient Languages Department at Trinity College tomorrow morning, Ms.Lane.

The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren't you, Ms. Lane? When did you last see him? what else did he tell you? I'm asking the questions tonight. If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.

Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.

Life equaled love plus passion squared. Loving and being passionate about what one did was what made life so precious.