Let me fly, let me see things that are hidden from other eyes.

No bird in a cage ever speaks. What is there to say? The sky is everywhere, churning above its head, blue and endless, calling out to it. But the caged bird can't answer anything except 'I cannot'.

I suppose that's what happens when you make other people's lives miserable: life gets miserable back at you.

There's fire in my fingers. I burn everything I touch.

Yeah, reflections! The same, but different. Like twins - like blood brothers! And when you need something bad done, like punishment or revenge, you'll just ask me, and I will do it -

She doesn't understand that doors, walls, fences, ceilings - they're helpless to keep out what determinedly desires to get in.

I am dying: it's a beautiful word. Like the long slow sigh of the cello: dying. But the sound of it is the only beautiful thing about it.