He was painfully shy, which, as is often the manner of the painfully shy, he overcompensated for by being too loud at the wrong times.

I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.

People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.

There are accounts that, if we open our hearts to them, will cut us too deeply.

I think I love my dreaming process because one of the things that my dreaming process does is sort out stories for me.

If you were close enough to her ruby-red lips you would hear her say, 'I will rise now and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek the one I love.' She is whispering that, and she whispers, 'By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth. My beloved is mine and I am his.

Walk any path in Destiny's garden, and you will be forced to choose, not once but many times.