He who has fostered the sweet poison of love by fondling it, finds it too late to refuse the yoke which he has of his own accord assumed.
Wine is bottled poetry, he thinks.
I saw in details while she saw in scope. Not seeing the scope is why I am here and she is not. I took each element spearately and never looked to see that they never did fit together properly
I couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real.
I draft quickly and then revise, a lot.
Because I do not wish to know,” he says. “I prefer to remain unenlightened, to better appreciate the dark.
I have absurdly vivid dreams.
Radar revs the engine as to say hustle, and we are running through the parking lot, Ben's robe flowing in the wind so that he looks vaguely like a dark wizard, except that his pale skinny legs are visible, and his arms hug plastic bags. I can see the back of Lacey's legs beneath her dress, her calves tight in midstride. I don't know how I look, but I know how I feel: Young. Goofy. Infinite.
Dogs have important jobs, like barking when the doorbell rings, but cats have no function in a house whatsoever.
There is no magician like love.
Well, there are more writers of blogs right now than there are readers, so that's clearly a vanity phenomenon.