The most twisted thing about being an artist comes when you understand you’re creating for one specific person. The painful part is realizing who that person is, and the devastating part is knowing the compulsion will never go away.
She was back to her old ways. Sweeping pieces of crazy under the rug.
Nothing wrong with having different interests and loving each other the same.
I was a passive aggressive coward. That sort of thing clung to your flesh like a smell, rot turned inside out. People could sense it on you; it caused them to be distrustful. It was hard to make friends when you had the smell, hard to keep them when you did make them. You held back from them and they held back from you, an even trade of nothingness.
Does a woman still have to explain herself when she doesn’t want children?
We’re laughing because you’re all the same.
I’ve become that woman – the one who is made happy by the happiness of others. It’s disappointing to me, that I’ve forgotten myself entirely.
Did she love me? I’d never know because I’d never ask. That was the thing about pride, it shortsighted our hearts.
You don’t have to give up something you love just because other people disapprove.
A woman in love loses her sight first and then her courage.
There’s a line Shakespeare wrote in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “Though she be but little, she is fierce.
Yeah, I guess I like that she doesn’t care. I’ve always wanted to not care.
She was a void; you couldn’t frighten something that didn’t exist.
In a world where you’re given everything, the thing they tell you not to want is what you want the most.
I remember thinking how fragile we were as humans, souls covered in tender flesh and brittle bone; one wrong step and we became someone else entirely.
The doctor is teaching me to cope with my shame, to deal with it. “Make decisions you can live with... ” he says to me.
She tried not to say the wrong things, but it was hard to know what exactly it was that made adults upset – they were like seesaws.
One voice, where it mattered, could change the course of history.
You couldn’t fix a child – they didn’t need fixing right out of the box. Kids just needed a healthy example of love to thrive beneath.
There were three types of people as far as Rainy was concerned: the people who knew who they were, the people who didn’t and the people who didn’t want to.
When you’re an adult you can control who you allow into your life, but you can’t control how they’ll behave once they’re there.