“To my embarrassment, I was crying again. Real girl tears for the second time, these ones born out of frustration. That didn't happen to me very often, but I hated it when it did. It was faulty wiring in the female body, tear ducts attached directly to the frustration meter. Trying to explain to men that no, I wasn't being manipulative, I just couldn't stop my eyes from leaking salt water, only added to the aggravation.”
“I burst into tears and I cry and cry until it feels as though it is not salt and water being squeezed from my eyes, but blood.”
“It was only when the salt water of my tears ran into my cuts and made them stingthat I discovered I was crying.”
“The streams of salt water continued to flow freely from my eyes and over my cheeks. “There’s a female approaching,” David warned.“Stop crying.” “I can’t,” I whimpered.”
“For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.”
“Tears disturb and confuse men, but women know the relief they can bring. I didn't cry because I couldn't deal with my life, but because I could.”