Nothing made you feel so useless as another person's grief.

Creatures with no dreams of their own can do naught but destroy the dreams of others.

So here we are, talking about Roman unicycles and alien sandwiches and my sister’s Italian misfortunes, while hanging in between us is: MY EPIC FAILURE TO CARPE. What’s wrong with me?

A dream dirty and bruised is better than no dream at all.

...wings—-vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.

Bitter, bitter, this desolation of angels.

It was funny, she thought, but her smile turned wistful because she had nobody to tell.