Moros’ corporeal form is an awkward tangle of too-long limbs and too-narrow hips, neither of which ease his drive through the congested streets of lower Manhattan. He quite enjoys...
"MONA!" bellowed Maverick Moody, on an otherwise tranquil Tuesday morning. "MONA! The children have sent something. I think it's a bomb."
Mrs Moody shuffled in...
“Time is a blur and I do not remember what I was before. For as long as I know, the day I came upon these untouched waters, was the day I began to live. For is not to love, to live?”
“His ship has gone down on this occasion, as it has many times before, but he knows he will sail again and the same sea will be waiting to engulf him tomorrow.”