Did God Ever Cry Over His Lost

The Uncertainty Of Our Future Is Nothing More Than A Fog Of Breath On A Windowpane.

I Can Be Whatever. You Can Be Whatever. We Can Be Whatever. Whatever, Together.

Who But The Mad Would Choose To Keep On Living? In The End, Aren't We All Just A Little Crazy?

She Was Too Much—for Zenith, Ohio. She’d Tried At Times To Make Herself Smaller, To Fit Neatly Into The Ordered Lines Of Expectation. But Somehow, She Always Managed To Say Or Do Something Outrageous—she’d Accept A Dare To Climb A Flagpole, Or Make A Slightly Risqué Joke, Or Go Riding In Cars With Boys—and Suddenly She Was “that Awful O’neill Girl” All Over Again.

We Are English, And I Expect You To Behave As Such. No More Crying.