Every time we tell a lie, the thing we fear grows stronger.
You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.
I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.
Why are you being so mean?" "Friends tell friends the truth. " "yeah, but not to hurt, to help.
Write about the emotions you fear the most.
She cannot chain my soul. Yes, she could hurt me. She'd already done so. . . I would bleed, or not. Scar, or not. Live, or not. But she could not hurt my soul, not unless I gave it to her.
I wonder how long it would take for anyone to notice if I just stopped talking.
There lay between them, separating them, that same terrible line of the unknown and of fear, like the line separating the living from the dead.
Military strikes on Afghanistan will not prevent something this terrible from happening again, for the simple reason that bombs will not deter people who are unafraid of death and desire martyrdom.
It was wonderful, a stunning happy ending to what began as another tragic rock & roll story, as if Bob Dylan had been arrested in Miami for jacking off in a seedy little XXX theater while stroking the spine of a fat young boy.
Both young children and old people have a lot of time on their hands. That's probably why they get along so well.