“Hawk?"He gazed up at her, still crouched on the floor, ready to pounce if she so much as moved an inch.”

“Her body poised with the tension of a wild animal, ready to pounce - or to flee. So beautiful, he thought. As he voiced the words, she faded away, and his world returned to blackness.”

“She gazed up at me wide-eyed from the shed floor and bit her lip seductively. Unfortunately it was her top lip so she looked like a piranha.”

“Nothing moves fast in Texas except the windmillsAnd the hawk that rises up with a clatter of wings.(Nothing more startling there than sudden motion,Everything is so still.)”

“He moved around the wide counter, silent as always. She was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, her fist in her mouth to try to quiet her sobs, and he realized he hadn’t actually seen her cry before. [..]She must have felt his eyes on her, for she suddenly swallowed her sob on a choked gasp and looked up at him, her huge, sorrow-filled eyes a sharper pain than the knife slash.He moved slow enough, so as not to spook her, to give her plenty of time to move, but she stayed where she was, her huge eyes looking into his, and she fucking broke his heart, if he still possessed such a useless organ.”

“The End of the Raven"On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slantingI awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.'Raven's very tasty,' thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor.'There is nothing I like more.'[...]Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he utteredIn a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -- 'Nevermore.'While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore --Only this and not much more.”