“Shape me, mold, manufacture me, and tell me that I'm beautiful.”

“I feel like someone is pressing me into a mold that does not fit my body, forcing me intothe wrong shape.”

“Tell my I'm clever,Tell me I'm kind,Tell me I'm talented,Tell me I'm cute,Tell me I'm sensitive,Graceful and WiseTell me I'm perfect--But tell me the TRUTH.”

“Exactly what don't I think is beautiful? Listen, I don't care what you say about my race, creed, or religion, Fatty, but don't tell me I'm not sensitive to beauty. To me, everything is beautiful. Show me a pink sunset and I'm limp, by God. Anything.”

“Tell me I'm a sinner I got news for youI spoke to God this morning and he don't like you!Don't you try and teach me no original sin;I don't need your pity for the shape I'm in”

“personal well-being serves solely to excavate within your soul a chasm which waits to be filled by a landslide of dread, an empty mold whose peculiar dimensions will one day manufacture the shape of your unique terror”