587.

Write like you will be exposed; live like you will be judged.

586.

Origen was made to wear pink.

585.

Why did it feel like she was walking backwards?

584.

She said something, and then immediately regreted it.

583.

If you go back far enough, we share the same saints.

582.

Like Kierkegaard, the life of the party went home and despaired.

581.

A satin ribbon over a bare shoulder.

580.

Boredom, this generation's symptom of dissatisfaction.

579.

Her father's brithday, and she forgot.

578.

Blogs teach you how to keep a secret.

577.

The words in Matthew were a childhood melody, straining into the present like a familiar tune.

576.

That moment was singular. Time, on the other hand, is relentless.

575.

She put on her new watch with the dangling butterflies and asked, "Wanna know the time?"

574.

Love is a four-letter word.

573.

It lifted her spirits.

572.

The clearest soup, with spring onions, seaweed, tempura crumbs, and udon.