She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood. She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.

I really don't know what "I love you" means.I think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist.

I really don't know what 'I love you' means. I think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

I really don't know what "I love you" meansI think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

I really don't know what 'I love you' means. I think it means 'Don't leave me here alone'.

A hundred words to talk of death?At once too much and not enough.My plans beyond that final breathare currently a little rough.The dying thing comes on so slow:reluctance to get out of bedis magnified each dayand so transmuted into dead.I dream of dying all alone,nobody there to watch me passnothing remains for me to own,no breath remains to fog the glass.And when I do put down my penmy memories will fly like birds.When I am done, when I am dead,And Finished with my hundred words.

We knew that it would soon be over, and so we put it all into a poem, to tell the universe who we were, and why we were here, and what we said and did and thought and dreamed and yearned for. We wrapped our dreams into words and patterned the words so that they would live forever, unforgettable.

I watch with envious eyes and mind, the single-souled who dare not feelThe wind that blows beyond the moon, who do not hear the fairy reel