If my boy had perished in a Nazi compound, I could never have gone on living. I would have killed myself.
Hard times arouse an instinctive desire for authenticity.
Some people pursue unhappiness because happiness is too mild a sensation.
I'm so sick of immaturity, of name-calling, of labels, of gossip, of high school. It doesn't make sense anymore, and I find myself being nice to people that I want to strangle.
In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.
Keep your heel, head and standards high.