There is something perfect to be found in the imperfect: the law keeps balance through the juxtaposition of beauty, which gains perfection through nurtured imperfection.

Life and light made up the interior, the realm of daytime. The exterior was darkness and night.

Creativity is that marvelous capacity to grasp mutually distinct realities and draw a spark from their juxtaposition.

There were corpses here and there and pools of blood. I remember seeing a butterfly flutter up and down that street. Summer does not abdicate.

Dorothy scratched her dark head, yawning wide, and white feathers floated out of her hair.