Warlock: Four thousand and fifty-three metric tons of inert rock, metal and organic matter, frozen solid.Quasar: Frozen in what?Drax: Time.Quasar: “Time”, Drax?Drax: Uh-huh. Old, old frozen time.Quasar: Right. And that tastes like what?Drax: Regret.

My mother is from Cairo, Georgia. This makes everything she says sound like it went through a curling iron. Other people sound flat to my ear; their words just hang in the air. But when...

The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.

Jealousy smells like the water in the bottom of a flower vase after the flowers have died.

Man is not to direct or to be directed anymore than a tree or a cloud or a stoneMan is not to rule or be ruled anymore than a faith or a truth or a...