About Laura Miller: Laura Miller was the third woman to serve as mayor of Dallas.
Dreams would always end with you, and then mornings would steal you away with a cruelty that haunted my days.
I’ll love you until the last petal falls, Jules.
She always used to say that the past is a relentless parasite in its quest, feeding off of the senses, looking for anything that will trigger a memory–forever there to complicate the present, forever there to remind us that it will always be a piec...
Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight–the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realit...
Tell me you’ve seen the world. Now, you’ve come back home Tell me you’ve carried me with you, That you’ve held me close. Tell me you’ve missed me Or that I’m not crazy for waiting cause Of all the butterflies that chose to stay, I’m in ...
The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.
Big events, small, mundane moments of the day–it doesn’t matter; the past will find a way to squeeze into the present–if you let it.
How does the story really go? Does she ever cross your mind? Does she ever steal your nights? Is she still a part of you? Do you ever wish she were still by your side? And what would you do? If she walked up here tomorrow And told you that she loved ...
More than every once in awhile, More than most dreams, More than just my heart, More than anything, More than you know, And more than I can say, I’ve loved you more Every passing day
Now, you and I both know that I’ll wait a lifetime for you – remember, Butterfly Weeds never give up – so take your time down there. And tonight, as you watch that big, orange sun disappear into the earth and your world gradually grow dark, I�...
I gave him a piece of my heart a long time ago, and once you give that away, I’ve learned you don’t so easily get it back.
Maybe we knew each other in another life. Or maybe we were just meant to find each other in this one.
I set my face toward the sun again, and I think about my old life—the one I feel as though I’ve abandoned somehow. It hurts to think of it that way. And even though I know it wasn’t perfect, I look back now, and all I see is perfection. Every s...
Adventure,' then, is what might otherwise be called hardship if it were attempted in a different spirit. Turning a difficult task or a perilous journey into an adventure is largely a matter of telling yourself the right story about it, which is one t...
The closer and more completely you can come to explaining what a work of art means, the less like art it seems.
Desire acts as a honey trap to the unwary male, luring him into unworthy and catastrophic enterprises. The beauty of the Narnian witches isn't ancillary to their evil, but integral to it, one of the weapons in their arsenal. Evil must, after all, app...
Buying a book is not about obtaining a possession, but about securing a portal.
If you've ever read one of those articles that asks notable people to list their favorite books, you may have been impressed or daunted to see them pick Proust or Thomas Mann or James Joyce. You might even feel sheepish about the fact that you reread...
A long time ago, I opened a book, and this is what I found inside: a whole new world. It isn't the world I live in, although sometimes it looks a lot like it. Sometimes, though, it feels closest to my world when it doesn't look like it at all. That w...
Do the children who prefer books set in the real, ordinary, workaday world ever read as obsessively as those who would much rather be transported into other worlds entirely?
