The soul is a magician. Only living flesh hampers it.
A rose by any other name Would get the blame For being what it is-- The colour of a kiss, The shadow of a flame. A rose may earn another name, So call it love; So call it love I will, And love is like the sea, Which changes constantly, And yet is still The same.
Pirates have always fascinated me.
No one is ever ordinary.
I haven't changed. Something's happened to me, that's all.
She looked, and a scarlet butterfly flew away from her, away down the length of the tower, and then another, another, an unraveling scarf of butterflies like winged blood.