you'll never find another sweet little girl with sequined sea foam eyes ocean lapping voice, smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky and you're all alone again tonight; not again, not again, not again. and don't it feel alright, and don't it feel so nice? lovely.
There are two kinds of folks who sit around thinking about how to kill people: psychopaths and mystery writers. I'm the kind that pays better. ~Rick Castle
When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings. — Dean Jackson
