Pain can give you sight or make you blind.

Everything was fine, but Weetzie wanted a baby. “How could you want one?” My Secret Agent Lover Man said. “There are way too many babies. And diseases. And nuclear accidents. And crazy psychos. We cant have a baby,” he said.

Once upon a time . . . What time are we upon and where do I belong?

Love is a dangerous angel.

You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

Choose to believe in your own myth your own glamour your own spell a young woman who does this (even if she is just pretending) has everything.

Flowers are reincarnation. They come out of the earth of our ashes. Nothing else looks so soul-like.