They dug in their heels and doubled down on the lies believing personal gain was better than preserving democracy. 

The bloody flower of generations of roiling hatreds had bloomed.

He kept looking for a way back in but found only locked doors, barred windows, and cold shoulders.

Karen felt closer to her ancestors when stirring a pot of gumbo.

Truth-telling fell out of fashion.

Sharon spent her life either worrying about how to fill her time or beating herself up for wasting it. 

The new old new again kept coming around acting as if it hadn't been here before.

The only thing they shared in common with their leader was their racism and xenophobia.

The wind-whipped snow and smoke are a poem for this winter day.

There were still new stories to be told.

The time it took to move from sleep to wakefulness, from dream to reality was taking longer and longer.

The mirror's reflection was no longer enough.

There would be no more waiting around for the brass ring for Diana planned to blow up the damned carousel.

Towards the night, danger, dark delights, she strode unheedingly.

If life was a tube of toothpaste Dave knew he'd rolled his to the end and was now desperately trying to squeeze out the dregs.

While the ministers molested and the public servants plundered we watched the newest primetime spectacular and dreamed of our own fifteen minutes on the other side of the screen. 

The decent dead kept piling up while the wicked living laughed and laughed.

Oh, the stories they would tell, now snuffed out, and only distant memories.

The party was over, the lights went up, and in the harsh glare, ugly truths were revealed.

The hand was shaky but the will remained unwavering.

While wheel-spinning, writer's block, and aimless Googling were Walt's true specialties he thought it best not to include them on his resume.

With the death of the old woman came the loss of a myriad of ancient wisdom along with a wicked sense of humor.

Sometimes we just need someone in our corner rather than advice.

When the power went out at the mansion Babs had a brief thought about what poor people must go through, but she promptly forgot all about it when the butler was able to fix the problem.

Helen's life could easily be described by pretty much any Hair Metal lyric.

The city he had known had been bulldozed and rebuilt so often it was impossible to navigate from memory.

They banned history so we'd be forced to live in a perpetual present in which lies could be more easily passed off.

Her spirit infused everything in the house, for better and worse.