When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

I try not to react, but I must fail because Gabriel turns to look at me. __he world needs both butterflies and lions. One is not better than the other. They're both beautiful and brave in their own ways.__is hand covers mine as it fiddles with the blades of grass. __va._ I look up. __ do not wish you were a lion any more than I would have wished her to be a butterfly.

I'm a poet who has lost his words." He looks across the street, but not before I catch the dull glint of shame in his eyes."Where did you lose them?" I ask, gentling my tone.He turns back to me. When he speaks, his voice is so small that I have to lean closer to hear it. "The same place I lost myself.

What happened when we died? How were we to know that death wasn't as profound an adventure as life was?

- __ow about flipping a coin;_ she made a pretty remark and the two women turned around andlooked at her irritated.- __hat's right, go ahead, jock about it. You are not the one trying to change her heart, I am, and youknow damn well how painful that can be!__and of Passion

I am as devoted to adventure now as then, and that__ never going to stop.