Beauty And Fear Make Uneasy Companions

Since When Does The Butterfly Ask About The Caterpillar?

Blue As The Evening Sky, Blue As Cranesbill Flowers, Blue As The Lips Of Drowned Men And The Heart Of A Blaze Burning With Too Hot A Flame. Yes, Sometimes It Was Hot In This World, Too. Hot And Cold, Light And Dark, Terrible And Beautiful, It Was Everything All At Once. It Wasn't True That You Felt Nothing In The Land Of Death. You Felt And Heard And Smelled And Saw, But Your Heart Remained Strangely Calm, As If It Were Resting Before The Dance Began Again. Peace. Was That The Word?

I Wish You Luck,' She Said, Kissing Him On The Cheek. He Still Had The Most Beautiful Eyes Of Any Boy She'd Ever Seen. But Now Her Heart Beat So Much Faster For Someone Else.

Stories Never Really End...even If The Books Like To Pretend They Do. Stories Always Go On. They Don't End On The Last Page, Any More Than They Begin On The First Page.

Dustfinger Closed His Eyes And Listened. He Was Home Again.