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

She wished she had a little yellow house of her own, with a flower box full of real flowers and herbs – pansies and rosemary – and a sweet lover who would swing dance with her in the evenings and cook pasta and read poetry aloud.

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

Tinys do not deserve safety. If they are to prove themselves, they must suffer and die or suffer and survive.

I dont know about happily ever after... but I know about happily, Weetzie Bat thought.

What sexual preference do you hope she has?” “Happiness.” Isnt that cool?

Pain can give you sight or make you blind.