She Was Singed, Bleeding, Bruised, And Furiously

Put All Your Eggs In One Basket... The Handle's Going To Break. Then All You've Got Is Scrambled Eggs.

I've Wanted To Be With You When I Didn't Have The Right To.

I Need To Write To Be Happy.

Damn Me To Hell Or Take Me To Heaven, But For Gods Sake, Do It Now.

Love Wasn't The Soft, Silky Words The Poets Spoke Of. Love,with It's Twin Edges, Was The One Factor That Weakened So Many Women, That Pushed Them To Compromised Their Own Wants, Their Own Needs For The Needs And Wants Of Another.