I'd Have Stopped Writing Years Ago If

In The Southern Hemisphere, Covering The Christmas Tree With Fake Snow Even Though Winter Has Nothing To Do With The Birth Of Christ.

Love Is Just A Word Until Someone Comes Along And Gives It Meaning.

Real Love Changes And Grows With Time And Discovers New Ways Of Expressing Itself.

Life Is Like Twitter: Nobody Wants To Sign Off.

Hatred. Something Almost As Physical As Walls, Pianos, Or Nurses. She Could Almost Touch The Destructive Energy Leaking Out Of Her Body. She Allowed The Feeling To Emerge, Regardless Of Whether It Was Good Or Bad; She Was Sick Of Self-control, Of Masks, Of Appropriate Behavior. Veronika Wanted To Spend Her Remaining Two Or Three Days Of Life Behaving As Inappropriately As She Could.