"And I am a writer
writer of fiction
I am the heart that you call home
And I've written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones...
Let me go if you don't love me" ~The Decembrists "Engine Driver"
When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings. — Dean Jackson