“Memory is a tenuous thing, like a rainbow's end or a camera with a failing lens.”

“Memory is a tenuous thing. . . .flickering glimpses, blueand white, like ancient,decomposing 16mm film.Happiness escapesme there, where facesare vague and yesterdayseems to come tiedup in ribbons of pain.Happiness? I look for it inteadin today, where memoryis something I can stilltouch, still rely on.I find it in the smilesof new friends, the hopeblossoming inside.My happiest memorieshave no place in thepast; they are thoseI have yet to create.”

“Too much to take in, too much to purge. Why must every memory, once sweet, dead end in such ugliness?”

“Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they're pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet.”

“All I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults. It's nights like these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain.”

“...what good would it do toshutter your windows, neverdream of rainbows or find hopein promises? Why choose to walk awayrather than hold your groundand fight for love?”

“When all else fails, dream bigger.”