“You see colors no one else can seeIn every breath you hear a symphonyYou understand me like nobody canI feel like my soul unfolding like a flower bloomingWhen this whole world gets too crazyAnd there's nowhere left to goI know you give me sanctuaryYou're the only truth I knowYou're the road back home.”

“He raped me, Agent Calhoun, he hit me but he didn’t kill me. As long as I’m breathing,I’ve got fight in me and luckily I’m breathing.”It was at that he whispered, “You aren’t like a lot of women.”“Yes I am,” I whispered back. “I’m like all women. You see this but inside there’ssomething else that I won’t let you see or him see but it’s the mess he left me. But that’smine. No one gets to it. Everything you get and he gets is a show. One thing you learn reallyquickly and really well when that kind of thing happens to you is to be a fucking greatactress. You don’t have a choice in that because a man like that does something like that toyou, you lose having choices. The only choice you have is what role you intend to play. Ipicked my role and that… that Agent Calhoun is what you see.”

“I am just like everybody else...because there is nobody like me in the whole world.”

“When I was able to get home it first hit me that you had left and I couldn't do anything about it. Every day before that an evening with you was waiting for me after school, now no more, strange feeling. I had grown too accustomed to your warmth. That is also a danger. At home I looked at the notebooks that you had bought and I got the stupidest surge of hope that I'd find something of you, something especially for meant for me. I would so much like to have something of you that I could always keep by me, that nobody else would notice.”

“Call me sentimental, but there's no-one in the world that I'd like to see get dysentery more than you”

“Now there's something else I know. You might not think you're grieving, but grief comes in all sorts of ways. There's the kind of grief that leaves you numb, and the kind of grief that rips your world in half. And then there's another kind of grief that doesn't feel like grief at all. Its like a tiny splinter you don't even know you have until it festers so deep it has nowhere left to go but into your soul. I think that's the hardest kind of grief there is because you know you're hurting but you don't know why.”