The ideal reader cannot sleep when holding the writer he was meant to be with. - Zadie Smith

Ryan's freckles were a join-the-dot's enthusiast's wet dream.

The thinnest covering of luck was on him like fresh dew. While he slipped in and out of consciousness, the position of the planets, the music of the spheres, the flap of a tiger moth's diaphanous wings in Central Africa, and a whole bunch of other stuff that makes shit happen had decided it was second-chance time for Archie.

It was in the shady groves of dictionaries that Jack fell in love.