“Yet this my comfort: when your words are done,My woes end likewise with the evening sun.”

“Reading was my escape and my comfort, my consolation, my stimulant of choice: reading for the pure pleasure of it, for the beautiful stillness that surrounds you when you hear an author's words reverberating in your head.”

“You shall be my roots andI will be your shade,though the sun burns my leaves.You shall quench my thirst andI will feed you fruit,though time takes my seed.And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of this earthyou will give me hope.And my voice you will always hear.And my hand you will always have.For I will shelter you.And I will comfort you.And even when we are nothing left,not even in death,I will remember you.”

“Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other's good, and melt at other's woe.”

“Because, I don’t trust a word out of your mouth. You screw with my head and my heart. I’m done. I’m done letting you into my life to trample on my emotions.”

“Woe! Woe! Woe!"Woe be unto the pastors that destroy and scatter the sheep of His pasture!"Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood and by iniquity!"Woe unto you that are rich! For ye have received your consolation!"Woe to the pastors who are brutish and have not sought the Lord!"Woe to the Inquisitors, for Jesus will inquire unto them!"Blessed are the faggots, for their voices will be an angel's choir."Blessed is my sister, Lila, for heaven is within her."Blessed are the rabble, for they shall know God."But woe upon you, for the evil of your own doings shall be visited upon you."Let my sister go!”