“When I wake, a piece of sharp green glass on the floor is cutting into my hand and I know it's a sign. I etch a letter on my hand; put it on top so I can see the jagged edges bleeding out; S.S is for sorrow, for all I don't say. S is for sick now, my punishing ways.”

“I've been looking in the mirror for so long.That I've come to believe my souls on the other side.Oh the little pieces falling, shatter.Shards of me,To sharp to put back together.To small to matter,But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces.If I try to touch her,And I bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe no more. Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirits well.Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child.Lie to me,Convince me that I've been sick forever.And all of this,Will make sense when I get better.I know the difference,Between myself and my reflection.I just can't help but to wonder,Which of us do you love.So I bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe now...Bleed,I bleed,And I breathe,I breathe,I breathe-I breathe no more.”

“I stand to leave, but my father says, “Wait!” over the red telephone. “Let me just look at you a minute.” He smiles at me proudly. “I know you been in some trouble, son, but you turned out good. That’s all I ever wanted,” he tells me. Then he puts his hand against the glass and I put my hand against the glass. “I love you,” he says.“I love you, too,” I say back.”

“Oh. Wow.''What?'He held my hand up between us. 'Look.'I squinted at my hands. 'I don't see anything.' Sighing, he flipped my hand over, and my jaw hit the ground. A faint blue line marked the center of my palm with a smaller line through it. It would've looked like a cross, except the horizontal line was slanted.'Oh. My. Gods.' I jerked my hand away, scrambling back. 'I have a rune on my hand. It's an Apollyon rune, isn't it.'Seth rested his hands on his knees. 'I think so. I have one like that.''But why is it still there? Why is it there at all?' I flipped my palm over several times, shook it, but the faint blue tattoo was still there. 'You can see it, right? Like right now, you can see it?''Yes. It hasn't faded.' Seth leaned forward, catching my hand. 'Stop shaking it like it's a damn Etch-A-Sketch. That doesn't make them disappear.”

“I can see the beauty of glass objects fully at the moment when they slip from my hand”

“I watched the early morning light pass over and through the windows of colored glass, leaving streaks of red and green and yellow on the stone floor. When I was little, I used to try and capture the colored light. I thought I could hold it in my hand and carry it home. Now I know it is like happiness-- it is there or it is not, you cannot hold it or keep it.”