Good luck is just bad luck with its hair combed.
Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly.
You could start at a path leading nowhere more fantastic than from your own front steps to the sidewalk, and from there you could go… well, anywhere at all.
That's the curse of the reading class. We can be seduced by a good story even at the most inopportune moments.
Was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?
Like all sweet dreams, it will be brief, but brevity makes sweetness, doesn't it?