If I could keep a single moment for all time, that would be the one. I became the very air; I was full of stars.

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

It is permissible to be the god of your own metaphors.

Was it probably true that reasoning beings were equal? It seemed more like a belief than a fact, even if I agreed with it. If you followed logic all the way back to its origin, did you inevitably end up at point of illogic, an article of faith?

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

I cannot perch among those who think that I am broken.

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