Blessed Are The Meek, For To Them

Little-boy Love...the Cleanest Pain I've Ever Known. Love Without Desire, Conditions, Or Limits - A Pure And Radiant Glow In The Heart That Could Make Me Giddy And Sad And Glorious All At Once. Where Does It Go? Why, In All Their Experiments, Did The Magi Never Try To Capture That Purity In A Bottle? Perhaps They Couldn't.

Only By Being Prepared For Your Death Can You Ever Truly Live.

The Problem With Being Nuts, She Thought, Is That You Don't Always Feel As If You're Nuts. Sometimes, In Fact, You Feel Perfectly Sane, And There Just Happens To Be A Trailer-shaped Dragon Crouching In The Lot Next Door.

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

Charlie Had Sophie Strapped To His Chest Like A Terrorist Baby Bomb When He Came Down The Back Steps. She Had Just Gotten To The Point Where She Could Hold Up Her Head, So He Had Strapped Her In Face-out So She Could Look Around. The Way Her Arms And Legs Waved Around As Charlie Walked, She Looked As If She Was Skydiving And Using A Skinny Nerd As A Parachute.