Even the smallest thing will wait a lifetime for the passing shadow of love.

Absence is a wind to love: small things extinguished; great things inflamed.

A publishing empire one line at a time

The past is never dead. It’s not even past.

Your welcome.

An absence of words, an absence of rocks.

Looking into the book tonight

Against the night wielding the darkest of arts.

“Jack, I want you to draw me like your French tractors…”