Winston Mccoyle

“Through the open drapes behind the nightstand, moonlight pouring through shadowy leaves fell haphazardly on the plastic bag full of shattered memories of his wife. He sat down on the bed, a dark silent gaze spreading over his face. Opening the bag released the flowery scent of licorice and violets—Summer’s signature perfume, Lolita Lempicka. He remembered she always said the aroma reminded her of childhood lullabies, fairies, and magic kingdoms. Matt buried his face in the tattered polo shirt she was wearing that day inhaling the faint trail of his lost love.”
― JoDee Neathery, A Kind of Hush

“She stabbed the earth with her big fork as if she could make Cookie Mac’s blood sprout from it.”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“Once again St. Nicholas Day
Has even come to our hideaway;
It won't be quite as fun, I fear,
As the happy day we had last year.
Then we were hopeful, no reason to doubt
That optimism would win the bout,
And by the time this year came round,
We'd all be free, and safe and sound.
Still, let's not forget it's St. Nicholas Day,
Though we've nothing left to give away.
We'll have to find something else to do:
So everyone please look in their shoe!”
― Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

“The guardian angel who conquered your enemy in battle was perceived by your enemy as a demon destroyer”
― Dan Brown, The Lost Symbol