Oh, Love. Love Is Best

She Looked, And A Scarlet Butterfly Flew Away From Her, Away Down The Length Of The Tower, And Then Another, Another, An Unraveling Scarf Of Butterflies Like Winged Blood.

Genre Categories Are Irrelevant. I Dislike Them, But I Do Not Have The Casting Vote.

Danger And Anger Are Everywhere. Love Is The Rarity, The Gem Buried In The Core Of The Mine, The Outpost Of God.

Archetypes Are Universal, And, In Subtle Or Extravagant Ways, Interchangeable.

I Hate The Way, Once You Start To Know Someone, Care About Them, Their Behavior Can Distress You, Even When It's Unreasonable And Not Your Fault, Even If You Were Really Trying To Be Careful, Tactful.