We have to go. I'm almost happy here.

I wonder sometimes if the motivation for writers ought to be contempt, not admiration.

Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.

The ways of love are strange and hard: The love you want is always barred; The love you have you want to change. The ways of love are hard and strange.

It's the teachers, they're the enemy. They get us to fight each other, to hate each other.

Thank you for this, Peter. For dry eyes and silent weeping. You taught me how to hide anything i felt. More than ever, i need that now.

We have to go. I'm almost happy here.