My taking a seat on the Council of the Fathers caused a desperate fluttering among my ghosts.
Now that I see you understand me so well, I will avoid you.
Glamour looks eloquent but seldom talks.
Deconstruction glorifies the critic, humiliates the author, and makes the reader wonder why he bothered.
Guilt stirs me, but only to self-pity.
Dogs often remind us of the human, ail-too human. Cats, never.