If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

What indeed is the half-life of a mortal consciousness? What is the half-life of a memory of that mortal consciousness? Of course, this is purely an academic question and of no immediate concern to those of us existing in the world of the living, for we possess already a memory, in its stead, which serves as a basis of our perception of the past. Accurate or not, this nature of memory allows us to understand the past according to the positions occupied by the flesh about which we seek to know, but, unfortunately, not in a way relative to the flesh itself__hat flesh stripped of identity and circumstance, that flesh which, in its most rudimentary capacity, had once collided, interacted, fought, competed, negotiated, cooperated, and mated with other flesh: there is no history of this kind, thoroughly naked and telling enough, which is accessible to us, for we are composed of the very same substance, the very same flesh, and sadly incapable of stepping outside of it, even momentarily.

Screw you, cowboy!_ she yelled after him, saying the word exactly as she had before. __nd that horse you rode in on.__nd__hoops!__ow everyone in the diner had turned to look at them.Zane turned around to her with amusement on his face. __ery original, princess.

First of all, I__ not a __ilitary type._ Second, I never proclaimed to be a gentleman of any kind. I just like the facts straight up. There__ no bullshit to wade through to get to the truth." Dylan

There,_ he said with a smirk. __ow I don__ have a swim suit either.__ndi bit her bottom lip and felt the heat begin to flood her cheeks. The sharp pinch on her arm snapped her out of her trance and she quickly swatted at the bug. __kay, okay. Turn around and don__ peak._ The light from the moon made it easy for her to see his questioning glare. __hat?___urn around?_ Zane asked, trying to hold back a smile. __eed I remind you that I__e seen you naked before, Miss Ford.___ane and Andi in, Zane: The McKades of Texas

I think of it like a caterpillar--a wrinkly, ugly worm with traces of dull colors on it. But when the worm metamorphoses, it becomes something truly beautiful._ Charli