Cut the ending. Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl.

This is my vision-what I imagine I'll pass through on my way to the light. The blue sky, the clouds, the rays of light.

...the man of my dreams is a girl.

Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.

Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.

Me? I had no dreams. No longings. Dreams only set you up for disappointment. Plus, you had to have a life to have dreams of a better life.

No one ever found out what was happening inside me. How the pain was eating me away. No one ever came to my rescue, or stood up for me.

What's the point of living if you don't belong anywhere?

What you see, isn't always what you get

Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you." "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.

I have no intent. I have no reason to live, that's all. When I'm gone, I don't want to be remembered.

Bravery is the choice to show up and listen to another person, be it a loved one or perceived foe, even when it is uncomfortable, painful, or the last thing you want to do.

Don't let your dreams rust! Listen to your youthful bells ringing loud inside of you.

My definition of good literature is that which can be read by an educated reader, and reread with increased pleasure.

No level of success is ever too great to stop striving and thriving.

This paper of yours is so lightly written that you must have sweated terribly.

But life isn't hard to manage when you've nothing to lose.

I think the Republicans have really thoughtful financial policies, and I'm more in the middle on taxation.

There's no such thing as a free lunch, unless you have a coupon for a free lunch...or someone gives you a lunch...never mind.

Society is the atmosphere of souls; and we necessarily imbibe from it something which is either infectious or healthful.