Haven't you always been more than yourself? Haven't we all? We are none of us just one thing.

Haven't you always been more than yourself? Haven't we all? We are none of us just one thing.

Heaven has fashioned a knife of irony to stab me with.

The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was.

I was drawn to his aloofness, the way cats gravitate toward people who’d rather avoid them.

The world inside myself is vaster and richer than this paltry plane, peopled with mere galaxies and gods.

Claude rubs the back of his neck and wrinkles his nose, about to tell me he was never sad. I believe this is called bravado and is not limited to lawyers, or even men, although that combination makes it almost unavoidable.