I want to know what it means to be in love. But in my dictionary 'in love' is indefinable.

Despite whoever created it, it's my world, & the only one I've got. Might as well make the best of it, right? Might as well have a little fun while I'm here. Or a lot of fun. Might be dead tomorrow.

The universe is a big place. If I was lost up there, how would you ever find me

I really have to wonder who or what made Daddy become this way. Babies aren't born cruel or filled with sick desire. Evil is not intrinsic. It's fashioned.

I don't think we'll get caught, but the very possibility is half the fun.

Too much to take in, too much to purge. Why must every memory, once sweet, dead end in such ugliness?

Puzzle pieces don't always connect do they?