Trying to make sense of love is like trying to dissect a rainbow.

Falling in love is not a rational process. It can't be planned or avoided. It happens--for good or bad it simply happens. I knew he'd eventually leave. I knew we couldn't be together, but I fell anyway.

Live. How many of us need to be reminded that living has nothing to do with trying to be as good as someone else, or trying to fit into some category, or filling in the blanks on some stupid checklist. That it has nothing to do with punishing yourself for past mistakes.

It was late afternoon, and classes were over for the day. Apple and Briar Beauty had walked to the Village of Book End to treat themselves to something yummy. They sat on a bench beneath a weeping willow. The songbirds that often followed Apple were perched in the willow's branches, chirping their lovely melody. Apple sipped on an apple fizz she'd purchased from the Hocus Latte Cafe. Briar had chosen a mocha hocus latte.

What is more terrifying-- the things we imagine or the things that are real?

He waved to me to be quiet, as if I were annoying background noise. "Look, whatever your name is..."
Benvolio Montague."
Right. Look, Benvolio, why don't we go outside and get a taxi? My label has a New York office. We can go there and get you a money order or something." He smile, thinking himself clever. "Come on, what do you say?"
Benvolio raised an eyebrow. "I am begining to believe that you are insane.