My heart is a teacup with hairline cracks. I feel like I have to walk real carefully so it won't get shaken and just all shatter and break.

I try to see the dark and light in everything. This is my way of comforting myself when I am dealing with those emotions.

Weetzie wished she could shake blue glitter around all of them - keeping them sparkling and safe.

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

I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive stress of intense happiness, can compel me to express myself through the written word.

Besides, secretly, without knowing it herself, she had been waiting for a Beast to go to.

I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.