But I wasn't a bad girl. I don't want to be forgotten. I want people to remember me.

Nothing is as it seems. Black can appear white when the light is blinding but white loses all luster at the faintest sign of darkness.

That is the mysterious thing about tragedy- it often strikes at the happiest moment.

It is a paradox. Life is that way. God designed it that way. I believe I met him once. He was full of mischief.

There is no time for grief; there never is.

There is not enough blood in her veins to keep her heart from skipping.

There comes a time for everybody when words and reasons can become such a great weariness.