Physics depends on a universe infinitely centred on an equals sign.

Make no mistake, those who write long books have nothing to say. Of course those who write short books have even less to say.

Who has never killed an hour?

The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind.

Losing the possibility of something is the exact same thing as losing hope and without hope nothing can survive.

The finest act of seeing is necessarily always the act of not seeing something else.

Maybe you saw her first? Caught a glimpse between the lines, between the letters, like a ghost in the mirror, a ghost in the wings?