We're all unique, just never in the ways we imagine.

Reluctance to begin is quick to befriend procrastination. . . .

It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and the knowledge that it was safer when one had less to lose.

The girl in the mirror caught my eye briefly...It is an uncanny feeling, that rare occasion when one catches a glimpse of oneself in repose. An unguarded moment, stripped of artifice, when one forgets to fool even oneself.

She'd slept terribly the night before. The room, the bed, were both comfortable enough, but she'd been plagued with strange dreams, the sort that lingered upon waking but slithered away from memory as she tried to grasp them. Only the tendrils of discomfort remained.

After all, it's the librarian's sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.

Had any poet adequately described the wretched ugliness of a loved one turned inside out with grief?