Patience is all we have in a land where time is obsolete. I press on, armored stranger. I am not deceiving you. The willows have always grown silent in my wake. I see and feel your ailing mind, and it worries me. The night that follows you grows stronger. You still have time to change.

— H.S. Crow

Raw anguish slithers through my brittle bones as the deathly call rots the air. Who murdered you old friend? The forest has no words to identify the hand, only erratic echo.

— H.S. Crow

Selfish little flower dancing beneath flames do you dare drift in this wind alongside me? Take my hand and let us see skies untouched by night. You are not alone. Never have, and never will be. Death is only the beginning, but our breath shall reign forever.

— H.S. Crow

That one doesn’t count. The poor scoundrel is deaf, but he makes a fine sniffer. How do you think we found you?

— H.S. Crow

The elasticity of our dreams can take us to unspoken worlds, but our innate horror of the unknown is what weighs us down. Fight it. Travel to the isolated coils of smoldering dust trapped in our dusky sky or explore the unseen timeless vibration of dancing particles that fashions existence. Whatever choice you make can change your life forever. The same applies to a story. Words are the atoms of a tale, and together they compose a universe.

— H.S. Crow

Well, clearly not. Goodness boss, just look at those filthy paws. I’ve never seen any fish carry paws like those. Usually they are cleaner.

— H.S. Crow

We yearn for a stranger to poke around in our heart. Such an irrational thing it is. Flutter once and lunacy behold.

— H.S. Crow

With each glare words escape me, yet no ears care to listen. It is cold here with her stare, judging every affair. My mind fiddles beneath the changeless confines of this betrayal as we hide behind deceitful wails. We have become trapped in lies long forgotten—squandering our time in lunacy with the thought of what was and is no more.

— H.S. Crow

You are sorrow. You exist, even if joy is present. Furthermore, you’re not like them. Furthermore, you’re not like any other emotion. Hate and fear come and go, but you exist even when the breeze is clear of sadness. You are permanent and needed.

— H.S. Crow

You deny the existence of magic. It's tragic. Aren't you a child born from the ashes of stars? Born from light to decide a life?

— H.S. Crow