The tree of revenge yields no fruit.

Do you hear me, mountain?′ She yelled into the storm. I’m not giving in. I crossed an ocean to get here. I climbed this mountain. I will not let her die.

Is it shocking?” he asked sarcastically. “To discover that there are things you don’t know?

She was going to burst, or fall apart. Something. She couldn’t keep feeling like this. The emptiness inside her was too big; it would swallow her whole.

I think that sometimes the whole larger-than-life gay thing is just another kind of closet. It’s easier to be different if you’re very different, if you go all-out on purpose. Because that way you can still hide who you really are.

A single pink poppy lay on the footpath, its roots still crusted with earth. I picked it up and it drooped forlornly in my hands.

Her heart began to ache, and she felt the numbness slip away. Misery welled up inside her. She clamped down on it, trying to hold onto the deadness that had blanketed her emotions for the past few days.

The Wasteland was an empty car park behind a long abandoned pub. Minah like it because she said it reminded her of the permanence of concrete in stark contrast to the entropy of humanity. Harrison had dubbed it the Wasteland after the TS Eliot poem, because it was full of disillusionment and despair.

By the end of summer, this trolley will be bursting with spuds. Like nature's own supermarket.

Pink was for girls.Girly girls who wore flavored lip gloss and read magazines and talked on the phone lying on their perfect, lacy bedspreads with their feet in the air. Girls who spent six months looking for the perfect dress to wear to the school formal.Girls who liked boys.