She began to feel like the plastic doll she had been named after, without even a hole where her mouth was supposed to be.

My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.

Stories are like genies...They can carry us into and though our sorrows. Sometimes they burn, sometimes they dance, sometimes they weep, sometimes they sing. Like genies, everyone has one. Like genies, sometimes we forget that we do. Our stories can set us free...When we set them free.

Maybe any love we ever have is an angel in whatever form.

I wish I wasn’t a girl who needed so much but a little free creature that slept in deserts and ran on clouds and lived on lilies.

Welcome Beauty, banish fear.

You're meant to have whatever your heart desires. Whatever your heart wants that much is already a part of you.