“Words raced thru his mind and his fingers ached to capture them all on paper.”

“And then one day he realised that of course he was always staring at his hand when he wrote, was always watching the pen as it moved along, gripped by his fingers, his fingers floating there in front of his eyes just above the words, above that single white sheet, just above these words i’m writing now, his fingers between him and all that, like another person, a third person, when all along you thot it was just the two of you talking and he suddenly realized it was the three of them, handling it on from one to the other, his hand translating itself, his words slipping thru his fingers into the written world. You.”

“In his mind she lay at his lap with his fingers gliding thru her straight beautiful hair. He smiles and says" your beauty lights up everything around you.”

“Sometimes paper is just paper, words are just words. Ways to capture the real thing. Don't be afraid to remember that.”

“He kissed each finger, and with each one of them spoken a word. Five kisses, five words. His last.”

“He had always prided himself on his ability to bargain, to bluff, to contain his ever-aching heart within the folds of his robes where no one could see his pain and his shame. Unconsciously, he reached up and fisted the little black pearl in his fingers, searching for words, praying to the Almighty for the words that would let him have her. But they would not come.They were not needed, when the truth was in his eyes.”