Love, I think, is by necessity constructed of a ladder of lies you climb together.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania,Fill’d with death, ya pens’ll hang ya.

My love for you won’t stop with my leaving. Come an evening over the years, when you step outside your door and hear the wind blowing through the cottonwoods, that’ll be me, thinking of you,...

Even a goat got to be a goat.” Esperança’s comments about slaves during the triangular slave trade.