Either things grow and change or they die.

That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.

It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.

Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.

His love for her was so deeply woven with resentment that he could not untangle the two.

He fished in his pocket for his keys and instead pulled out the last geode, gray and smooth, earth-shaped. He held it, warming in his palm, thinking of all mysteries the world contained: layers of stone, concealed beneath the flesh of earth and grass; these dull rocks, with their glimmering hidden hearts.

Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.