Do you know what Hell is? ...No fire, no brimstone. Man in his infinite folly invented that to rob from his brothers their will. Hell is existing without Our Father. None of His love touches me.

Her lips are like pillows of warm glass. It is strange to find her resistant for even a second, since she has been the kisser and not the kissed. It wasn't like the last time, which felt fumbling and unnatural. That time wasn't off-putting, just like kissing one's sister. This kiss, my kiss, was tingling sweetness, electric apple blossoms.

Do you want me because you love me or because I provide you normality drag?

You're like this...this goddess pretending to be human... And I don't know which one I love.

What marvelous fortune to have lived to see a world that would one day make you.

I hate those people who say you always find the one when you stop looking for her. It is the advice you least want to hear when what you think you need most is someone to love. At best, it comes off like being asked to not think of a white elephant. The elephant becomes the only thing you can think of.

Every weekend, I fall in love again. By Sunday, the last thing I want to do is let her go, release her back into the cold water of life.

The tension of knowing what I couldn’t give—to anyone, but her in specific—made my skin tighten against the thorns of my bones. Not that I didn’t love her, because it was hard to do otherwise, but that I didn’t know how to love without reservation.

The demons are not easily dispatched, instead attaching themselves to otherwise beautiful things, a favorite food or a love note left for you, to see how you react when they rear up.