Love Is A Dangerous Angel.

At First We Raced Through Space, Like Shadows And Light; Her Rants, My Raves; Her Dark Hair, My Blonde; Black Dresses, White. She's A Purple-black African-violet-dark Butterfly And I A White Moth. We Were Two Wild Ponies, Dawn And Midnight, The Wind Electrifying Our Manes And Our Hooves Quaking The City; We Were Photo Negatives Of Each Other, Together Making The Perfect Image Of A Girl.

Any Alphabet Book For Children Where 'p Is For Patti' Smith And 'x Is For The Women Whose Names We Don't Know' Is Something I Can Recommend, Especially When The Book Is As Well Written, Representationa Lly Diverse And Vividly Illustrated As This One.

He Said That Black Sheeps Express Everyone Else's Anger And Pain. It's Not That They Have All The Anger And Pain-they're Just The Only Ones Who Let It Out. Then The Other People Don't Have To.

It Seems Impossible That You Can Love One Person So Much, No Matter What Happens, No Matter What They Do.

Everything Was Fine, But Weetzie Wanted A Baby. “how Could You Want One?” My Secret Agent Lover Man Said. “there Are Way Too Many Babies. And Diseases. And Nuclear Accidents. And Crazy Psychos. We Cant Have A Baby,” He Said.