Author of quotes: Ava Claire Harris

The pain is circling above us, flashing a light in the window lost, complaining. Pain sings prettier than all of us combined, and spread across the world great rains of tears. The pain it like a moth, a thousand colorful umbrellas-flowers or shabby coat. She is a human. The same is alive and talkative, everything goes and goes along, and whispers that clear. But it's worth a try to figure it out or scream, that is urine, pain-man falls silent and it seems that she really feel sorry for you. Only so can not be. The pain becomes stronger, it feeds on tears and bitterness, it is not going away, quite the contrary. The pain grips you more and more, twists and all loitering and loitering.

Flowers on the tips of his eyelashes like a perennial star Shine dimly and silver, real lanterns. My boy looks like fireflies with your eyes, spinning around and not moving at all. Landon gently takes my hand and draws to himself, really silent, but I still listen. I sing in time with his heartbeat, put his hand to the place where we live feelings and pain, and whisper that the mountain disappeared, disappeared, or simply went away. And the guy whispers that grief is rain, rain, came down from heaven, touched everyone, the rain, crying about the fact that he is in trouble. I agree and keep quiet afterwards.