I stood there in the shadowed doorway thinking with my tears. Yes, tears can be thoughts, why not?

Ravens are the birds I'll miss most when I die. If only the darkness into which we must look were composed of the black light of their limber intelligence. If only we did not have to die at all. Instead, become ravens.

I spend my time dwelling on revenge and try to deal with the monsters crawling out of the ashes.

The Internet, which seems now so embedded and personal and crucial to our lives, isn't at all - we really shouldn't think of it that way.

Power travels in the bloodlines, handed out before birth.

I have brothers and was a tomboy, if that's still a designation. It wasn't a stretch for me to think and write as a 13-year-old boy - it is freeing.

We all got holes in our lives. Nobody dies in a perfect garment.