I will write in words of fire. I will write them on your skin. I will write about desire. Write beginnings, write of sin. You’re the book I love the best, your skin only holds my truth, you will be a palimpsest lines of age rewriting youth. You will not burn upon the pyre. Or be buried on the shelf. You’re my letter to desire: And you’ll never read yourself. I will trace each word and comma As the final dusk descends, You’re my tale of dreams and drama, Let us find out how it ends.

What are these fundamental principles, if they are not atoms?" "Stories. And they give me hope.

I want to write a play. I'd like to do an original musical. I should probably put together a poetry collection.

This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It's that easy, and that hard.

Richard wondered how the marquis managed to make being pushed around in a wheelchair look like a romantic and swashbuckling thing to do.

Every hour wounds. The last one kills.

Go get your heart broken.