People have a habit of inventing fictions they will believe wholeheartedly in order to ignore the truth they cannot accept.

Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it

The night's chilly breath tickles up my neck and finds my ear, whispering secrets only the wind knows.

One could argue that it's romantic to die for love. Of course, then you're dead and unable to take that honeymoon trip to the Alps with all the other fashionable young couples, which is a shame.

Books are, at their heart, dangerous. Yes, dangerous. Because they challenge us: our prejudices, our blind spots. They open us to new ideas, new ways of seeing. They make us hurt in all the right ways. They can push down the barricades of ‘them’ & widen the circle of ‘us.

They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.

There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.