There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.
Pain is not wat you get, it is wat you give.
Yet she likes complications. She wishes she could turn and say: I like people who unbalance me.
Even if you're going to die, you might as well die pretty.
Life must pass through difficulty in order to achieve any modicum of beauty.
So much of her time spent like this: dreaming up things to say and never quite saying them.