What did she see in me? What does she see that I don't?

Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.

This is my vision-what I imagine I'll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.

...the man of my dreams is a girl.

Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.

Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.

Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.

No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.

What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?

What you see, isn't always what you get

Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you." "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.

Love yourself so much that you can never harm yourself. Remember, you can never harm others without harming yourself.

Oh! lovely voices of the skyWhich hymned the Saviour's birth, Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "Peace on earth"?

They were erected purposefully to send a strong message to all who walked in their shadows about who was still in charge in this city.

She's got a smile that heals me.

Thanks be unto God which always causeth us to triumph in Christ!

The way I see it, there is no greater spiritual beauty than fanaticism, of a sort so sincere it can only end in martyrdom.

that expression you get in your eyes when you are very tired and everything is like a dream and you are starting to know what things are like underneath what people say they are.

I'd wanted to be a writer since I was knee-high. Once I knew that books were written by people and didn't just happen, it was obviously that I would write them, too.

Things get better--hurt less--over time. If you let them.