She needed to talk, she needed to cry, she needed to vent all her frustrations and disappointments.

But even in her laughter there was something missing. She never seemed to be truly happy; she just seemed to be passing time while she waited for something else. She was tired of just existing; she wanted to live.

Why do we stop believing in ourselves? Why do we let facts and figures and anything but dreams rule our lives?

Oh, that fighting for peace is like screwing for virginity.

Always a chancer, always lucky, he'd fall into a river and come out dry, with fish in his pockets.

The important thing is not what we look like, but the role we play in our best friend’s life. Friends choose certain friends because that’s the kind of company they are looking for at that specific time, not because they’re the correct height, age, or have the right hair color

I'm never overwhelmed or under it either; just nicely whelmed. I'm OK. Nothing spectacular but sometimes special. I look in the mirror and see this medium average person. A little tired, a little sad, but not falling apart.