You Were My Home, Mother. I Had

The Cake Had A Trick Candle That Wouldn't Go Out, So I Didn't Get My Wish. Which Was Just That It Would Always Be Like This, That My Life Could Be A Party Just For Me.

Let Me Tell You A Few Things About Regret. There Is No End To It. Do You Regret The Beginning Which Ended So Badly, Or Just The Ending Itself?

A Novel Is Like A Dream In Which Everyone Is You. They’re All Parts Of Yourself.

The Pearls Weren't Really White, They Were A Warm Oyster Beige, With Little Knots In Between So If They Broke, You Only Lost One. I Wished My Life Could Be Like That, Knotted Up So That Even If Something Broke, The Whole Thing Wouldn't Come Apart.

Dawn Tinted The Darkness Like Water Ink.