Time had a way of moulding people into shapes they themselves no longer recognised.
Doors lead to things and I've never met one I haven't wanted to open.
People might think writing is a hard business, but it's nowhere near acting.
It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?
She was the breeze on a summer's day, the first drops of rain when the earth was parched, light from the evening star.
We're all unique, just never in the ways we imagine.