“My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.”

“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.”

“But then, my entire life is bullshit. The best things in it have vanished, ghosts. Ghosts I'll admit I created.”

“I do have friends, but they don't know me, only someone I've created to take my place. Someone sculpted from ice. I keep the melted me bottled up inside. Where no one can touch her, until, unbidden, she comes pouring out.”

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

“You are a gift to all who know you, whether or not they realize it. If they don't, they are blind. You have a special place in this world. All you have to do is find it. Do not give up on yourself, or the truths you have realized. Do not give in to those who could crush your dreams like nutshells. And never turn away from forever love.”

“Or might the soul clone itself,create a perfect imitationof something yet to bedefined? In this way,can a reflection be altered?”