There was a war going on in our house. A silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride.

It is so appropriate to color hope yellow, like the sun we seldom saw. And as I begin to copy from the old memorandum journals that I kept for so long, a title comes as if inspired. 'Open the Window and Stand in the Sunshine.' Yet, I hesitate to name our story that. For I think of us more as flowers in the attic.

Angel, saint, Devil's spawn, good or evil, you've got me pinned to the wall and labeled as yours until the day I die. And if you die first, then it won't be long before I follow.

Beauty thinks it needs no talent and can feed on itself, so it soon dies.

You trap yourself sometimes, by thinking desire and need is love. Love is something far more precious, but something far more fragile. As fragile as one of our tiniest, most intricate, most delicately crafted toys. Hold on to it too tightly, and it will crumble on your fingers, but hold on to it loosely, and the wind might blow it away and shatter it on the cold ground. Listen to the voice comes from your heart, but be absolutely sure the voice comes from your heart.

I believe in God... but I don't believe in religion. Religion is used to manipulate and punish. Used in a thousand ways for profit for even in the church, money is still the 'real' God.

Little rabbits have big ears.