She captured the spot of my world’s centre and sent me in elliptic rings about it, causing the ground beneath me to vanish and the breath of my lungs to disperse. I was a rock locked in helpless orbit.
I am inclined to trust you. You shouldn’t be like that with another man, not ever; but I can’t help it. I felt it strongly from the instant I heard your voice; and though I thought momentarily that it would falter, it didn’t. It’s still here....
Carry me like change in your pocket and spend me as you wish.
Let me not anchor you to a bed of weary rocks, but let me be the kite’s string that guides you in your flight.
Contemplating from the confines of a desk the reality of death is worthwhile, but only moderately enriching. Too often do I resort to it; rarely do I get with death in the ring.
How would it alter Juliet’s love perception to learn the sea is but a rounded jug of water? Would her sensuous analogy turned simple simile unveil to her the limits of herself? Or would she forget the ocean, that deplorable casket, and turn on the ...
