“Love is a piano dropped from a four story window and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. -Two Little Girls (Little Plastic Castle)”

“we can't afford to do anyone harmbecause we owe them our liveseach breath is recycled from someone else's lungsour enemies are the very air in disguiseyou can talk a great philosophybut if you can't be kind to peopleevery dayit doesn't mean that much to meit's the little things you dothe little things you sayit's the love you give along the way”

“If you don't ask the right question, every answer seems wrong -”

“We get a little further from perfection, each year on the road,I guess that's what they call character,I guess that's just the way it goes,better to be dusty than polished,like some store window mannequin,why don't you touch me where i'm rusty,let me stain your hands”

“and god help you if you are an ugly girl course too pretty is also your doom cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room and god help you if you are a pheonix and you dare to rise up from the ash a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while you are just flying back”

“Squint your eyes and look closerI'm not between you and your ambitionI am a poster girl with no posterI am thirty-two flavors and then someAnd I'm beyond your peripheral visionSo you might want to turn your headCause someday you might find you're starvingand eating all of the words you said.”

“I opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingtightened my belt around my hipswhere your hands were missingand stepped out into the coldcollar highunder the slate grey skythe air was smoking and the streets were dryand I wasn't joking when I saidGood Byemagazine quality men talking on the cornerFrench, no less much less of them then usso why do I feel like something's been rearranged?you know, taken out of context I must seem so strangekilled a cockroach so bigit left a puddle of pus on the wallwhen you and I are lying in bedyou don't seem so tallI'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tiredand my brain is disconnected but my heart is wiredI make such a good statisticsomeone should study me nowsomebody's got to be interested in how I feeljust 'cause I'm hereand I'm realoh, how I misssubstituting the conclusion to confrontation with a kissand oh, how I misswalking up to the edge and jumping inlike I could feel the future on your skinI opened the fire doorto four lipsnone of which were minekissingI opened the fire door”