“Existence is.. well.. what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand.”

“Existence— well, what does it matter? I've existed for the best use i canThe past is now part of my futureThe present is well out of hand.”

“Existense, well what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can.”

“I can now see everything falling to pieces before my eyes.”

“Two ways to choose, which way to goDecide for me, please let me knowPictures all around, of how a good life should beA model for the rest, that bred insecurityEverything seemed easy but I didn't have the heartMe in my own world, yeah you there besideThe gaps are enormous, we stare from each side”

“Well--" My mother paused, and her tone was reflective in that way that is inevitably sad, because the past is sad. "What I remember," she said, "is that you were always such a dear little girl.”

“...if he didn't fully understand where I came from, he understood who I was now -- he knew how well done I liked my steak, knew the color of my toothbrush, the expression I made when I realized I'd forgotten to roll up my car window before it rained.”