“. . . The stormy sun was going downIn a stormy sky.Why did you let your eyes so rest on me,And hold your breath between?In all the ages this can never beAs if it had not been.”

“you raise me up so i can stand on mountains you raise me up to walk on stormy seas i am strong when i am on your shoulders you raise me up to more than i can be”

“You come all flowers & new moon, quick to wrap me in your pent-up tides, in your stormy clouds, in your confused fragrances which I begin to recognize one by one.”

“Gentle reader, may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agised as in that hour left my lips: for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love.”

“Notice if you are holding your breath after inhaling, and if so, what are you afraid of letting go. Or are you holding it after exhaling, and what are you afraid of letting in.”

“Aye,” he smiles, joy igniting in his stormy gray eyes, stroking my hand possessively as if unwilling to let me go for fear I am nothing more than a hallucination about to wear off.”