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And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

It was a burden on all her muscles. A hollow deeper than her bones. She braced herself though, she knew why Atlas stood so tall.

My heart may be bruised and scarred, bleeding slow drip-drip with every thump and every other thump-thump that widens unsealable wounds. My heart is the strongest part of me. It's survived everything I've thrown at it and much more than it should.

My scars show you I've been strong enough to endure the trauma of the world. My heart has no scars, my heart hangs in tatters only visible to those who see with more than their eyes. And my soul, well, my soul is comprised of pristine shatter, held together only because each individual piece is falling apart. They fall apart the right way though, that's why I still play this facade of being one and whole.

An outline, my body, no mass or feeling, A dark reflection spread from floor to ceiling, The faceless copycat stalks me day after day, A personal eclipse of the sun never going astray, Each movement mine in a world of its own, Whispering shades unseen of a different home, A skewed yet comparable story occurs every day, Removed, though not far, less than halfway, The whiter the glow the blacker the stain, An ethereal cachet remaining midst the acidic rain, A trust and intimacy of a curious nature, I follow, it follows, we follow a stranger.

I was the wings that kept her aloft, while the churning sea of reality nipped at her feet. I kept her from drowning, but I still felt bad, that her toes had to experience such dreadful cold.

And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves.

My body held on though I held snapped threads in my hands and patches of my flesh were missing entirely. I was proud of my little mess... all the mistakes, every scar and every tear, told a story of a life I was strong enough to bear. I wear a patch of pride upon my chest, showing all my self-glory of the good times and the rest.

Don__ walk in front of me_ I may not followDon__ walk behind me_ I may not leadWalk beside me_ just be my friend

The covers of this book are too far apart.

Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups.

Animals are my friends...and I don't eat my friends.

I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don't know the answer

My Best Friend is a person who will give me a book I have not read.

A room without books is like a body without a soul.

Happiness is that which occurs when you know what sadness is, and that you possess neither it nor the attributes of it. So is sadness, that you know what happiness is, and that you possess neither happiness nor its attributes.

Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'!

Take caution when declaring war because you may believe it will be easy, but war will always end in despair.