…I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me.

If only I can find him... the man who will be intelligent, yet physically magnetic and personable. If I can offer that combination, why shouldn't I expect it in a man?

If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them.

No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh, yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

My life is a discipline, a prison: I live for my own work, without which I am nothing.