Think of your pain like a bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.

Every girl is a goddess.

I dreamed of being a part of the stories—even terrifying one, even horror stories—because at least the girls in stories were alive before they died.

He was so handsome,but he didn't look well.He reminded her of a cigarette.

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.

We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leather covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in your hand like a fish.

Each of us has a family tree full of stories inside of us, Dirk thought. Each of us has a story blossoming out of us.