Her nightmare clung to her like the smell of smoke to cloth.
Smell is the voice of the soul.
My mama used to say, 'Are you sad? Then just wait a minute.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had stayed up into the squeaky hours of the night because I couldn’t put a book down, and that was a tragedy.
Life is short, so live extra lives. Read books.
...Speaking of, I've been playing with the letters - Lovers In a Very Enlightened Regard." "LIVER. Good one." "Also, how about Life Invasion Via Exceptional Respect?" "Life Invasion. Like it." "Or Lovelike Intensity Via Emotional Rapport." "Doesn't that spell OLIVER?