In many ways, a book is, in itself, a tiny universe. Each page is like a newly formed galaxy, fashioned from a single, pulsing thought. A book travels for days, for years, sometimes for centuries to meet you at an exact point in time.
A Betrayal I cannot undo what I have done; I can’t un-sing a song that’s sung. And the saddest thing about my regret- I can’t forgive me, and you can’t forget.
And you said ecstasy was a storm cloud, just before the rain would burst into the night sky, like a thousand aquatic stars-and not one single moment before.
