There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.

Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.

She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.

Even the human race can't claim to be natural anymore. We are fake, dying things. How fitting that I would end up in this sham of a marriage.

Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.

She has the majesty of hurricanes and explosions.

In another time, in another place, I wonder who they might have been.