Only through destroying myself can I discover the greater power of my spirit.

Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need.

No mat­ter how much I try and hide this, bit by bit, I start to fall apart.

They assume she was once gorgeously beautiful. Because now she looks so—bad.

Am I sleeping? Have I slept at all? This is insomnia.

I think standardization is really the first step to something being commodified.

No, Miss Wright didn't want to meet her kid. To her, that relationship was just as important, just as ideal and impossible as it would be to the child. She'd expect that young man to be perfect, smart, and talented, everything to compensate for all the mistakes that she'd made. The whole wasted, unhappy mess of her life.