Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.

Child of woe is wane and delicate... sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the picnics and outings to the underground caverns... a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost... secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums... has six toes on one foot.

If you've wrecked one train, you've wrecked them all.

Look at her - I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way - what bliss.

It's hard to say. Sometimes people have had terrible childhoods. And sometimes they just haven't found their special place in life. And sometimes they're dogs from hell and must be destroyed.

A day alone, only that would be death.

Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.