It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.

There is something about her eyes. Eyes don't breathe. I know that much. But hers look breathless.

Do certain events in our lives leave a permanent mark, freezing a piece of us in time, and that becomes a touchstone that we measure the rest of our lives against?

Whatever you choose for your stationery is your favorite color because it's where you pour your heart out.

It's the unknown that I fear, the bites of memories that still have no connections.

I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)

Words have longer lives than people.