It's ironic, isn't it? Our goal was great. Our path was dark.

Are you asking if I ever spied on you while you were taking a shower?

Sometimes, if I am not careful, and I stare too long at a flower, it shrivels and dies.

Slow down. The party won't start until I get there - Jo, Remember me. Page 43.

Yet, ironically, it is her very wretchedness that makes me pity her so. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what to do!

I went to work at the library. I know that sounds crazy but I didn't know where else to go. Besides, at the library I was constantly surrounded by people. And I loved my job, surrounded by so many books, so many lives, so much of the past.

Truly it it not the tragedies that destroy us, but the memories of them.