Love and anger are like land and sea: They meet at many different places.

Night is not something to endure until dawn. It is an element, like wind or fire. Darkness is its own kingdom; it moves to its own laws, and many living things dwell in it.

Love is an obsolete emotion, ranking in usefulness somewhere between earwigs and toe mold.

Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.

What?" It was a good word. Like a rock in a river, sticking up to let you land on it, so you could make your way across the flow.

Branches grew from his hands, his hair. His thoughts tangled like roots in the ground. He strained upward. Pitch ran like tears down his back. His name formed his core; ring upon ring of silence built around it. His face rose high above the forests. Gripped to earth, bending to the wind's fury, he disappeared within himself, behind the hard, wind-scrolled shield of his experiences.

The man was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind, and he died of what he saw there