Kindness. The most unkind thing of all.
Darkness is drawn to light, but light does not know it; light must absorb the darkness and therefore meet its own extinguishment.
Death in its way comes just as much of a surprise as birth.
I knew I had done something awful. I had killed love, before I even knew the enormity of what love meant.
I was lonelier than I should be, for a woman in love, or half in love.
I am not kind, I cut people off as with shears and I drop them like nettles.