People rarely bring flowers to a suicide.

Who cares for Algebra?Who delights in solving math?I only want to live my lifeAlong the creative path.

Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own - my words are gone.

No more winter at all. Finch, you brought me spring.

The problem with people is they forget that most of the time it's the small things that count.

Music did that to me, just like God was supposed to, because music seemed both magic and holy.

You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.