There is a fine line between seeing something that's lost as missing, and seeing it as something that might be found.

If his voice hasn't been the melody of my life, it's been the bass line, so subtle you don't notice it until it's missing.

He is dark and quiet and completely different from me, which is exactly why I should put distance between us. But it is also the reason I find him so fascinating.

Where you come from does matter -- but not nearly as much as where you are headed.

If it had been easy for Romeo to get to Juliet, nobody would have cared. Same goes for Cyrano and Don Quixote and Gatsby and their respective paramours. What captures the imagination is watching men throw themselves at a brick wall over and over again, and wondering if this is the time that they won't be able to get back up.

The joke's on them. One little hypodermic wont' be enough. Split a piece of wood, and they'll find me. Lift up a stone, and they'll find me. Look in the mirror, and they'll find me...If you really want to know what makes someone a killer, ask yourself what would make you do it.

Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall.