Simply put, if you are a Wayward Victorian Girl, I'll find you.
Studies show that intelligent girls are more depressed because they know the world.
Life is not like Gloomy Sunday, with a second ending when the people are disturbed.
Being brave means to know something is scary, difficult, and dangerous, and doing it anyway, because the possibility of winning the fight is worth the chance of losing it.
I still own my heart, which I know because it hurts so much.
Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?