If I am awarded a pardon for my philanthropic work, great; if not, I will continue to be involved in the community and to work just as hard, if not harder, to prevent kids from going down the same road and making the same mistakes.
Located two ribs below the heart, it is called hate.
Heart lesson #4: the unrequited heart. You can't make anyone love you back.
When I wake, a piece of sharp green glass on the floor is cutting into my hand and I know it's a sign. I etch a letter on my hand; put it on top so I can see the jagged edges bleeding out; S. S is for sorrow, for all I don't say. S is for sick now, my punishing ways.
Love is not popular. Not noble. . . not love, no reward. Trust love. Is not love. Trust yourself.
You can never get to a person's mind. You cannot know the different deeds and missions of happiness; you can't tell a screm of pleasure from one of pain. Sometimes, we can barely read pain. Neither a barometer nor a guide, pain can mislead us. Even in the body, the laws of chain reactions can be false. This is why people always want a second opinion.
Heart lesson #3: post-heartbreak survival. The heart is resilient, I mean literally. When a body is burned, the heart is the last organ to oxidize. While the rest of the body can catch flame like a polyester sheet on campfire, it takes hours to burn the heart to ash. My dear sister, a near-perfect organ! Solid, inflammable.
Eventually everyone has to die, except Elvis.
One week I'll get pancakes at Bongo Room, the next week I go to Kuma's Corner. But I always end up at Coldstone. I love ice cream.
Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!
Though I have many words, What woman's satisfied, I am no longer faint Because at her side? O who could have foretold That the heart grows old?