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Love, Lies, and C...
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by M.L. Nolan (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 110 of 301)
— Aug 03, 2026 05:43PM

 
Spoiled Milk
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by Avery Curran (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 20 of 322)
— Jun 14, 2026 09:12PM

 
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Tori Amos
“On bad days I talk to Death constantly, not about suicide because honestly that's not dramatic enough. Most of us love the stage and suicide is definitely your last performance and being addicted to the stage, suicide was never an option - plus people get to look you over and stare at your fatty bits and you can't cross your legs to give that flattering thigh angle and that's depressing. So we talk. She says things no one else seems to come up with, like let's have a hotdog and then it's like nothing's impossible.

She told me once there is a part of her in everyone, though Neil believes I'm more Delirium than Tori, and Death taught me to accept that, you know, wear your butterflies with pride. And when I do accept that, I know Death is somewhere inside of me. She was the kind of girl all the girls wanted to be, I believe, because of her acceptance of "what is." She keeps reminding me there is change in the "what is" but change cannot be made till you accept the "what is.”
― Tori Amos, Death: The High Cost of Living

Tori Amos
“On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.”
― Tori Amos

Franz Wright
“We are created by being destroyed.”
― Franz Wright

Robert Penn Warren
“There is nothing more alone than being in a car at night in the rain. I was in the car. And I was glad of it. Between one point on the map and another point on the map, there was the being alone in the car in the rain. They say you are not you except in terms of relation to other people. If there weren't any other people there wouldn't be any you because what you do which is what you are, only has meaning in relation to other people. That is a very comforting thought when you are in the car in the rain at night alone, for then you aren't you, and not being you or anything, you can really lie back and get some rest. It is a vacation from being you. There is only the flow of the motor under your foot spinning that frail thread of sound out of its metal guy like a spider, that filament, that nexus, which isn't really there, between the you which you have just left in one place and the you which you will be where you get to the other place.”
― Robert Penn Warren, All the King's Men

William Faulkner
“How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.”
― William C. Faulkner

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