I Don't Know What Frightens Me More

Fanatics Have The Look Of People Who Do Not Masturbate But Who Think About It Almost All Time.

The Tears, When They Come To Some Men, Are Worse Than Beatings. They're Wounded Worse By Sobbing, Men Like That, Than They Are By Boots And Batons. Tears Begin In The Heart, But Some Of Us Deny The Heart So Often, And For So Long, That When It Speaks We Hear Not One But A Hundred Sorrows In The Heartbreak. We Know That Crying Is A Good And Natural Thing. We Know That Crying Isn't A Weakness, But A Kind Of Strength. Still, The Weeping Rips Us Root By Tangled Root From The Earth, And We Crash Like Fallen Trees When We Cry.

Friendship Is An Algebra Test That Nobody Passes.

Love Is A One-way Street. Love, Like Respect Isn't Something You Get; It's Something You Give

The Touch Was Exactly What The Touch Of A Lover's Hand Should Be: Familiar, Yet Exciting As A Whispered Promise. I Felt An Almost Irresistible Urge To Take Her Hand And Place It Flat Against My Chest, Near My Heart. Maybe I Should've Done It. I Know Now That She Would've Laughed, If I'd Done It, And She Would've Liked Me For It. But Strangers That We Were Then, We Stood For Five Long Seconds And Held The Stare, While All The Parallel Worlds, All The Parallel Lives That Might've Been, And Never Would Be, Whirled Around Us.