Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.

You can't let facts get in the way of the truth.

I didn't know the inner me was hungry," I said to Art. "That's because it already starved to death.

If the workers took a notion they could stop all speeding trains; every ship upon the ocean they can tie with mighty chains.

I am; I was. I want to be.

You loved me as hard as you knew how. I'd give anything to go back and love you better.

Don't mourn, Organise