My own survival required me to counterbalance interesting with invisible.

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.

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

Did I become court composer through masterful procrastination? Hardly!

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

Metaphor is awkward, but emotion, by its nature, leaves you no more scalable approach.

We were all monsters and bastards, and we were all beautiful.