She was starting to think there might be such a thing as karma - that repetition - maybe you lived through the same thing over and over until you stopped caring. Maybe eventually it got less intense, until it was just nothing.

If sinners where so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I?

They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

This was the life I was going to be living, everybody separated from everybody else, hanging on for a moment only to be washed away.

What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?

I decided that if I was never going to sell anything as long as I lived, I might as well do what I want to do 'cause then at least I would've done what I wanted to do in life. What's that worth?

A person didn’t need to be beautiful, they just needed to be loved. But I couldn’t help wanting it. If that was the way I could be loved, to be beautiful, I’d take it