I need to work on me.The mewithout you.

Through windows, in wishing wells, whispering in the wind...that's where I find you.

In that wounded place, buried betweenmy ribs and letting go, I miss you.

I die a little, In the echo of your silence.

I was just an option.Blown easily to piecesand offered to the skyby the sweet laced painupon your lips.

I can't love anymore.Except for you...I love you so much it hurts to breathe.

Bridge burned from end to end, and I don't miss you anymore.You delivered silenceI've birthed freedom.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

I've never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

Steep fall to the groundshatteringlike clay pigeons missed by bad shotsand unsteady hands.

Broken.As I search for hope, In the same eyesI lost it.

Most adults are knowledgeable to a child, but ignorant for their age.

I am constantly torn between killing myself and killing everyone around me. Those seem to be the two choices. Everything else is just killing time.

To count - really and truly to count - a woman must have goodness or brains.

I always loved running.... It was something you could do by yourself and under your own power.

Map out your future, but do it in pencil.

Nixon is a strong leader with a good grasp of the world's problems. He knows that the only way to argue with the communists is from a position of strength.

You can manage what you do not understand; but you cannot lead it.

In the end dreams became his life, and his whole life thereafter took a strange turn: one might say he slept while waking and watched while asleep.

I really can't imagine not singing again.

When you're on the open sea and you drop 10, 12 feet and your stomach goes up around your neck - that's when you have problems.