And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world.
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Anti-Valentines Day Poem Hearts and roses and kisses galore, What the hell is all that shit for? People get mushy and start acting queer, It is definitely the most annoying day of the year. This day needs to get the hell over with and pass, Before I shove something up Cupid's ass. I'll spend the day so drunk I can't speak And wear black for the rest of the week. Guys act all sweet, but soon it will fade, For all they are doing is trying to get laid. The arrow Cupid shot at me must not have hit, Cause I think this love thing is a crock of shit. So, here's my story... what else can I say? Love bites my ass... Fuck Valentines Day!
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So now it is time to disassemble the parts of the jigsaw puzzle or to piece another one together, for I find that, having come to the end of my story, my life is just beginning.
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Many people are afraid of the dark because they fear the unknown. I am the opposite. I embrace the dark because I fear the known. The light is so full of evil, it makes the darkness shine with good. This is my story.
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The only thing I learned from his books is that once the word is written it's going to be held against you for the next hundred years, ... All along I thought this is not my story about living in Provence; it's a woman coming to terms with changing circumstances against a backdrop that happens to be Provence.
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