Actually I don’t know if honesty is a strength or some kind of weakness.
I am not a pretty girl. I don’t want to be a pretty girl. No, I want to be more than a pretty girl.
In order to keep anything cultural, logical, or ideological, you have to reinvent the reality of it.
Outside sleep’s open window, between the drops of rain, history is writing a recipe book for every earthly pain.
Someday you’re going to get hungry and eat most of the words you just said.
I’m sounding out the silence, avoiding all the words.
I am a work in progress dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding.
I am 32 flavors and then some.
My country tis of thee, to take swings at each other on talk show TV.
No one’s gonna sympathize when we crash, they’ll say you hit what you head for, you get what you ask.
Feel free to listen, feel free to stare.
I cannot name this, I cannot explain this, and I really don’t want to so just call me shameless.
I have earned my disillusionment.
I would rather have these things weigh on my mind. At the end of this tunnel of guilt and shame, there must be a light of some kind.
I’m the color me happy girl, Miss live and let live. And when they’re out for blood, I always give.
Maybe we are both good people who’ve done some bad things.
I had a little bit of resistance to the idea of taking energy away from my work, and the baby comes along and, lo and behold, that’s exactly what happens.
Virtue is relative at best, there’s nothing worse than a sunset when your driving due West.
We negotiate with chaos for some sense of satisfaction.
Who says I like right angles? These are not my laws, these are not my rules.