I'm With The Fashion Police

I'm looking at you. You're sitting on your pulpit, grandstanding and demanding, acting as if the whole world is against you.

I know what you're thinking. You're some kind of Achilles, and we are all Agamemnons hellbent on keeping you from what's yours. You came here pure of intent, and we sullied your name and deprived you of your one and only chance at true love.

Well, let me be the one to tell you: the problem isn't that you're black and she's white. The reason she's not into is that you are always wearing a cardigan with a tie.

Something Wicked

She had only one weakness, but as with others of tremendous power--Achilles, Samson--it would be that weakness that would be her undoing.

Her body was a desiccated husk, a mere formality, an inaudible whisper. Her shadow had more of an essence. It was the dryness of her corporeal form that allowed her to create her greatest feats of magic. It was the dryness of her soul that led her to evil.

In the end, it was a bucket of water that occasioned her demise. Once she had tasted water, it was impossible to continue life as a witch.