Neither sleet nor rain nor a half inch of snow will compel me to dress like a lumberjack.

You're just trying on different identities, like everyone in those Shakespeare plays. And the people we pretend at, they're already in us. That's why we pretend them in the first place.

Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

And the voice grows stronger and stronger, and it’s my voice this time and it’s asking a question: How does she know?

Hate me. Devastate me. Annihilate me. Re-create me. Re-create me. Won't you, won't you won't you re-create me.

Life might take you down different roads. But each of you gets to decide which one to take.

But I'd do it again. I know that now. I'd make that promise a thousand times over and lose her a thousand times over to have heard her play last night or to see her in the morning sunlight. Or even without that. Just to know that she's somewhere out there. Alive.