Question for your life: Let’s say we’re making love on the moon, and my clone decides to show up. Would you tell either me or him to get lost? - Jarod Kintz

Flower petals in the breeze look like a butterfly flapping its wings. My love for you takes flight like a white orchid blushing pink.

Love walked in the door like a dusty cowboy, and I looked that cowboy dead in his eyes and said, “I thought I shot you.” And his eyes never blinked, wavered, or watered as he said, “You did. You shot me in the leg. But you can’t kill love that easily. And today you’re going to learn how deadly Love can be.” That was over four years ago, and I’m still alive. So that was his plan all along, to serve me up a super slow death. Sort of like torture, only imperceptible and more pleasant.

All thoughts, secret or spoken, belong in a coffee table book written in Braille, so you can really feel the emotions.