1009.

She would succumb.

1008.

Along a deserted footpath on a night-time run: two men with skin weathered brown, painting the metal fence of the railway station white.

1007.

He spent the last day of the old year in bed.

1006.

It made him cry.

1005.

It was only a matter of punching in the numbers to get an echo of her own longing and want.

1004.

The song was a mirror made of broken pieces of glass.

1003.

"There was Spike, moored between the long piers of Nebraska's legs, lapping at the jetty.  She looked happy, in a silicon sort of way." (Stone Gods, 175)

1002.

A Cantonese saying passed down from my grandmother to my father to me: "Businessmen bend down, pick up a fistful of sand, and sell it to you."

1001.

All her life, she had to say goodbye.

1000.

`But what if we should topple in and find that there is no bottom?'
`Then, we shall fall,' she said,
`and fall into each other's arms.'

999.

`Are you there?' she said.
`We are at the very edge of the world.'
`I know,' she answered.
`But it is not over yet.'

998.

Sometimes, unconsciously, wistfully, she held on to her own hair.

997.

She laughed. And it sounded like rain in the desert. It had been a long time.

996.

Getting her life together may be as simple as following a nursing home routine: shower, breakfast, read, work, fluff(friends), sleep.

995.

Tidiness is next to sanity.

994.

She was angry and so she wrote: "dear GOD WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO???????"

993.

She had hope has an anchor for her soul, but she lost her grip on the chain.

992.

Love possesses. devours. extinguishes.

991.

Perhaps it would have been better never to have loved. To live as a pauper to the end of one's days.

990.

Like Frodo on the cleft of the rock at the end of the world, having forgotten the sound of birds singing, the feel of grass, the smell of morning dew. At least Frodo had a friend. God. Where has Samwise gone?

989.

She tried to keep despair at bay but it crept into her life like a wolf, devouring everything that moved.

988.

The sms sucked the hope out of her heart.

987.

She needed something soft — like a pillow — to comfort her.

986.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tune: whispering hope.