Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm Borrowed. Now I'm

It Doesn't Matter Who My Father Was; It Matters Who I Remember He Was.

It Was As If A Morning-glory Had Bloomed In Her Throat, And All That Blue And Small Pollen Ate Into My Heart, Violent And Religious

I Think It Will Be A Miracle If I Don't Someday End Up Killing Myself.

I See Myself As One Would See Another. I Have Been Cut In Two.

Yes, I Know. Death Sits With His Key In My Lock. Not One Day Is Taken For Granted. Even Nursery Rhymes Have Put Me In Hock.