Sunset Is The Saddest Light There Is.

Every Little Thing Wants To Be Loved.

If You Aren't Giving People Something To Talk About, You've Become Too Dull.

If Someone Should Ask Me, 'what Does The Soul Do?' I Would Say, It Does Two Things. It Loves. And It Creates. Those Are Its Primary Acts.

It's Something Everybody Wants-for Someone To See The Hurt Done To Them And Set It Down Like It Matters.

I Don't Remember What They Said, Only The Fury Of Their Words, How The Air Turned Raw And Full Of Welts. Later It Would Remind Me Of Birds Trapped Inside A Closed Room, Flinging Themselves Against The Windows And The Walls, Against Each Other.