Speaking of remarkably tenuous segues. . .
When we breathe out, we die a little bit, and when we breathe in, we are reborn. Everybody dies, the trick is to not stay dead.
He carved a path through the autumn evening, leaves jumping before his boots and cartwheeling around his coattails.
He came from the "function follows form" school of design; he made things, then figured out what they were good for.
Life is the fracture zone where chaos and order collide. You may be in love with one or the other, but don't forget you need both.
"Touch the leaf!" he said, as if it was the most important thing in the world. For all I know, it was.
She felt she was being dishonest, wearing her hair that way; anyone could tell she was not that kind of girl.
The author's body of work, when seen from low-Earth orbit, resembles nothing so much as the exoskeleton of some hitherto undiscovered Precambrian life form.