“My poetry lives in the spaces of time, in between time, in time out. It is not a constant vibe; I catch it like the incoming tide, going out again. It will not let me say what I want to say for words cannot be woven together to express me that way. My words have learned to be patient for nothing. Now is my time out.”

“The second time my world exploded, it was alsobecause of a word. A word that worked its way out of mythroat and danced onto and out of my lips before I couldthink about it, or stop it.The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow?And the word was: Yes.”

“It is the way of my people to use light words at such times and say less than they mean. We fear to say too much. It robs us of the right words when a jest is out of place.”

“You may not remember the time you let me go first. Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you: Today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together.”

“You may not remember the time you let me go first. Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn't that far to go. Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up. You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you: Today, no matter what it takes, we ride home together.”

“I have my work cut out for me where you’re concerned, don’t I? (Stryker)Not really. Hate you today. Will hate you tomorrow. What say we don’t waste any time? Give me the sword and let me have your throat now. (Zephyra)”