Anything Under Size Five Isn't A Woman.

But We Were All Young Once. It Passes, Like Innocence And A Sense Of Fair Play. The Only Thing Left In The End Is A Good Instinct For Survival.

Always Having To Have The Last Word Is A Bad Trait. Pisses People Off.

Most Hatred Is Based On Fear, One Way Or Another. Yeah. I Wrapped Myself In Anger, With A Dash Of Hate, And At The Bottom Of It All Was An Icy Center Of Pure Terror.

There's Only So Much Emotional Super Glue In A Person's Soul, That Everything Just Stays Broken.

That Was The True Terror Of Love, That You Could Love With Your Whole Heart, Your Whole Soul, And Lose Both