So who’s expired in an ending flat and inane quite beyond belief now?
So Wise Man summ'ned Crow an' say-soed him these words: Fly across the crazed'n'jiffyin' ocean to the Mighty Volcano, an' on it's foresty slopes, find a long stick. Pick up that stick in your beak an'...
Snow is bruised lilac in half light: such pure solace.
Sixsmith,Eva. Because her name is a synonym for temptation: what treads nearer to the core of man? Because her soul swims in her eyes. Because I dream of creeping through the velvet folds to her room,...
Sitting under the candlenut tree in the courtyard is pleasant in the afternoon. Laced in shadows, frangipani & coral hibiscus ward away the memory of recent evil. The sisters go about their duties, Si...
Siddhartha is a dead man and a living ideal. The man taught about overcoming pain, and influencing one’s future reincarnations. But I pray to the ideal.
Shiroyama’s heart stops. The earth’s pulse beats against his ear. An inch away is a go clamshell stone, perfect and smooth … … a black butterfly lands on the white stone, and unfolds its wings.
She has to lose her pre-Copernican view of a universe revolving around herself.
Secrets affect you more than you’d think. You lie to keep them hidden. You steer talk away from them. You worry someone’ll discover yours and tell the world. You think you are in charge of the secret,...
Sawing the head off a thunder god with a rusty hacksaw is not easy when you are eleven years old.
Remember that a sincere apology never diminishes the apologizer.
Regret' implies a freely chosen, but erroneous, action; free will plays no part in my story.
Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.
Our weaponry was not dropped onto our laps one morning. It is not manna from Sinai’s skies. Since Agincourt, the White man has refined & evolved the gunpowder sciences until our modern armies may fiel...
Other boys mean questions have to get settled. Who’s coolest? Who’s hardest? Who’s brainiest? Normal boys care about this stuff
Orito pictures the human mind that weaves disparate threads of belief, memory, and narrative into an entity whose common name is Self, and which sometimes calls itself Perception.
Or else rip out the odd pages and leave me the even.
Only the inanimate can be so alive.
Only one-tenth of what you write will make it into your manuscript, but when you knock on that tenth – I rap my knuckles on the table – you’ll hear oaken solidity, not sawdust and glue.
One loses one's eye in the lanes of sea phosphorescence & the Mississippi of stars streaming across the heavens.