Once, there was a girl who vowed she would save everyone in the world, but forgot herself.
Jewels, lies, slips of paper, dried flowers, memories of thing long past, useless quotations, idle hands, beads, buttons, and mischief.
Don't be drinking the Haterade.
A girl like that, Grandad said, perfumes herself with ozone and metal filings.
Ruthless. That’s my girl.
You have to write a lot. And you have to rewrite what you wrote a lot more.