Our wings may be small, but then again, so are we.

I knew it wouldn’t last, that the reality would come snaking back in, but for a moment I saw it, the futility of trying to mold love into an expected shape. The foolishness of whining...

Sometimes the memories seemed too much and I couldn’t understand how I’d stayed so calm when these things actually happened, but lost my breath in the shadowy remembrances.

I might be old and ugly now, but you started that way, Jack.

Sometimes you wait for the right time and you run out of time altogether.