“Baby you're the only light I ever saw. I make the most of all the sadness, you be a bitch because you can. You try to hit me just to hurt me so you leave me feeling dirty 'cause you can't understand. We're going down and you could see it to....we're slow dancing in a burning room!!!”

“How dare you say it's nothing to me?Baby, you're the only light I ever saw.”

“The saddest kind of sad is the sad that tries not to be sad. You know, when sad tries to bite its lip and not cry, and smile and say, "No I'm happy for you"? Thats when it's really sad...”

“But you can't start over, Only a baby can start over. You and me, Why, we're all that's been.”

“I love you more than songs can say, but I can't keep running after yesterday...”

“I like the strings. I always have. Because that's how it feels. But the strings make pain seem more fatal than it is, I think. We're not as frail as the strings would make us believe. And I like the grass, too. The grass got me to you, helped me to imagine you as an actual person. But we're not different sprouts from the same plant. I can't be you. You can't be me. You can imagine another well – but never quite perfectly, you know?”

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8 color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64 color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64 color box, though I've got a few missing. It's okay though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8 color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation. So when I meet someone who's an 8 color type...I'm like, hey girl, Magenta! and she's like, oh, you mean purple! and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, no I want Magenta!”