Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
I didn't wave my daisy. I felt small, the way an ant must feel looking up at a field of wildflowers. I was nothing. I was trapped below flowers, buried under them, while girls like Lizzie Lovett danced overhead. That was life. We all have a place.
The Hundred Lies of Lizzie Lovett
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I didn't wave my daisy. I felt small, the way an ant must feel looking up at a field of wildflowers. I was nothing. I was trapped below flowers, buried under them, while girls like Lizzie Lovett danced overhead. That was life. We all have a place.
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