Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us.
What we are assigned to bear is in a sense a measure of our stature.
Love's blindness consists oftener in seeing what is not there than in seeing what is.
Time heals nothing — which should make us the better able to minister.
We turned on one another deep, drowned gazes, and exchanged a kiss that reduced my bones to rubber and my brain to gruel.
Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.