The Plain Truth Is That The Period

Within Days They'd Formed An Unholy Alliance With A Foppish Young French Vampire In The Garden District Who Had Implausibly Golden Hair And A Streak Of Ruthlessness As Wide As The Mississippi

Scholars Do One Of Two Things When They Discover Information That Doesn't Fit What They Already Know. Either They Sweep It Aside So It Doesn't Bring Their Cherished Theories Into Question Or They Focus On It With Laserlike Intensity And Try To Get To The Bottom Of The Mystery.

That Evening, Rowing On The Quiet River As Sunset Turned To Dusk, I Saw An Occasional Smoky Smudge On The Towpath, Always Slightly Ahead Of Me, Like A Dark Star Guiding Me Home.

If The Butterfly Wings Its Way To The Sweet Light That Attracts It, It's Only Because It Doesn't Know That The Fire Can Consume It.

Just Because Something Seems Impossible Doesn't Make It Untrue.