She kissed him… long enough he could almost hear her thoughts. Long enough that he began to know her story, know what she had been through.

She had thought he was dead, or at least not totally alive, and you could not still be dating someone you believe had an autopsy, so it was not really cheating.

You kill by consent, every time you let something… pervert the balance when you have the power to stop it.

They may have been rightly overbearing in her formative years, but they also loved Roselyn enough to trust she needed dreams more than realities.

She did not arrive at Annandale without taking the chisel to herself more than once, without rubbing up against a few boys to smooth an edge or two.

Now that this destiny was about to happen, every instinct within him fought against it, realizing he had been fetishizing suicide.

Her rebirth stood in her mind with the clarity of a perfect diamond, the light scattering the rainbows through her body.

She had seen this relationship dying before it ever lived, but allowed optimism and lust to blind her.

You and me? We are never going to be just friends. The only time I'm not adoring you is when I am too busy hating you and wishing to God I never met you...

I wanted a life of adventure. I wanted to travel. I wanted to work my way up to being Somebody. I wanted to leave a mark on the Earth and be remembered.

To her, it was like asking a butterfly what it remembered about being a caterpillar. She could fly now and nothing could touch her when she left the cocoon of her body behind at night.

I figured something out. The future is unpredictable.

Infatuation burns itself out, ' she says. 'Friendship mixed with old chemistry--that can last a lifetime.

Having you close like this makes me forget the reasons why this won’t work. We will never work.

I only speak a little pigeon French. Just enough to get by with the little French pigeons.

I stand by whatever I read from Univision.

I want us to invest in you.

I don't have a Madonna-sized fan base, so I can actually e-mail and talk to everyone that e-mails me, because I am totally appreciative and I like my fans!

Being able and willing to complain is what makes us rational and moral animals, capable of seeing and articulating the difference between how things are and how they should be.

Listen to presences inside poems.

Good style, to me, is unseen style.