I Like Vibrant Colors.

Take Care To Chop The Onion Fine.

Gertrudis Got On Her Horse And Rode Away. She Wasn't Riding Alone--she Carried Her Childhood Beside Her, In The Cream Fritters She Had Enclosed In A Jar In Her Saddlebag

You Don't Have To Think About Love; You Either Feel It Or You Don't.

Then She Cried Without Tears, Which Is Said To Hurt Even More Like Dry Labor.

[...] Each Of Us Is Born With A Box Of Matches Inside Us But We Can't Strike Them All By Ourselves