No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.

echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.

Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.

A cliché is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.

You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.

...You know the mistrust of heights is the mistrust of self, you don't know whether you're going to jump.

So much wanting and longing, clutching, desiring, passion and hatred and terrible need. Here, death was suitable, there was room for it, the grip of life's relentless urges slackened, replaced by this icy simplicity. This wasnt her death. It was his. That was the sad and honest truth. Though it would stay with her, it would be more like a black onyx heart on a silver chain, worn privately, under her clothes, close to her body, all her life. The guilt, the beauty, everything. It wasnt over, it had only begun. Well ok then, Okay.