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

I would always be lonely, but no more alone.

How does one craft happiness out of something as important, as complicated, as unrepeatable and as easily damaged as life?

There is nothing that is more beautiful than everything else in the world.

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'.

My life was pouring out my feet and seeping through cracks in the floor; yet still I knelt and did not move, for fear she'd let go my hands. Let me stay, I wanted to beg: Please don't make me go.

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