“Writing without words? Its not easy, I tell you! I stab the pen into my heart and let the blood flow. No more ink, no more words, no more b.s. Just me.”
“I write the word solitude on my wall and then below it: Do you know me at all? Are my words just air? Is my heart easy to spare?”
“Call me Billy one more time, and I will stab you with this ink quill”
“People can be cruel,' he says with a sympathetic look that makes me trust him even more. And right then I realize that he is not writing down all my words in a file, which I really appreciate, let me tell you.”
“Your heart is beating so fast,” he said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I can feel your blood humming under my hand. Are you frightened of me?”
“Let me tell you, my girl, that I'm swallowing no more of your insults! And if I hear another word from you in disparagement of the Corinthian set it will be very much the worse for you!”