Men have feelings too, you know. You bruise the petals of my manflower.

We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.

But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.

I'm an oddity of one, my strangeness too complicated to explain or share.

Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.

I do not want to pass the time. I want to grab hold of it and leave my mark upon the world.

Everyone's dying. A little, every day. Make it count.

We create the illusions we need to go on.

I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.

People see what they want to see when they need to.

To those who will see, the world waits.

And now I understand that truth casts a spell of its own, one I'm not sure of how to hold on to, though I'm desperate to try.

I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.

I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.

I'm sorry, Gemma. But we can't live in the light all of the time. You have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you.

You couldn't be perfect enough to keep the world from betraying you.

The hand you hold the longest is your own.

There are no safe choices. Only other choices.

Jeez, someone needs to push the reset button on this planet.