Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?

...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.

The thing is, you throw brains and souls into an animal and stir, you don’t really know what you’re going to get.

Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!

Skip meeting him? The butterflies, the pounding heart, the blushing? The part where you enter each other's magnetic fields for the first time, and it's like invisble lines of energy are drawing you together-

She tasted of fairytales

There is the past, and there is the future. The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other. We live poised on that second as it's hurtling forward-toward what?