Shelby looked over to see Andrew silently mouthing syllables to himself, as if he were part of an ecstatic rite. He grinned as he bit fricatives and tongued plosives. He was tasting English origins, mulling...

The rain turns lighter, turns to snow. And I have a sense that we have not yet arrived, that we are still reaching. For each other. For who we are meant to be.

hough we travel the whole over to find the perfect match,we must carry it with us a light or it’s playing hard to catch.

Like blood out of a wound, a keening wail rose from the bottom of my heart and ripped through the graveyard. I lowered my face to Hadassah’s shoulder and went quietly and thoroughly to pieces.

Poetry is the language of the soul;Poetic Prose, the language of my heart.Each line must flow as in a song,and strike a chord that rings forever.To me, words are music!

Her mouth was a gash of red, like the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice, bloody and oracular. Behind it her teeth shone sharp and white as bone.

He appreciated all beautiful things. As she stood before him poised, scrutinizing every inch of his face, liable to strike him, he thought she was the most incredible thing he had seen in his life....

I have tried to tell him in a dozen different ways that I am only six inches tall. I’ve told him I am as tall as his heart, that he could hold all of me...

I should have bailed. That little voice had my back. That little voice is older than I am. It’s older than the oldest person who ever lived. I should have listened to that voice.

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.

Yuvali struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The long leaves of a purple-flowered bush raked her forehead. The flower emerged from bulbous green tubes, unfolding toward the sun. The petals radiated...