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We must consider what Miss. Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for what she goes to.

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Francesca Lia Block

Sometimes a wild horse needs to feel that his rider is just a little bit wilder.

Horse, Littles, Needs, Wild, Wilder
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I will not eat cakes or cookies or food. I will be thin, thin, pure. I will be pure and empty. Weight dropping off. Ninety-nine. . . ninety-five. . . ninety-two. . . ninety. Just one more to eighty-nine. Where does it go? Where in the universe does it go?

Cake, Cookies, Ninety Nine, Two, Universe, Weight

. . . It felt like they were telling each other secrets. Everything they said felt like that—whispered, tender, full of other meanings, like when you tell someone a dream or talk about your astrological signs as code for all the things you love about each other.

Astrological, Astrology, Dream, Like, Secret, Talk

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.

Black, Let, Ones, Pain, People, Said

You are so intense. Like a storm. It's shocking how intense you are.

Intense, Like, Shocking, Storm

Under the ground seep the toxins of the population that lives above. If you have to, you will eat roots and earthworms. It is always night. Candles burn in lanterns made from tin cans. When it is nighttime up above, you can crawl out, but only for a little while. You feel ashamed of your matted hair, your torn clothes, the dirt on your face. Who would want to speak to you? They are all shiny and pretty. They have parents and house with gardens. What do you have? The earth. Whole handfuls of it. The lizard people with their slit eyes and scaly skin. Your loneliness. Your longing.

Eye, Loneliness, Night, Population, Shiny
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