You can find fresh pain every time you discover what you pretty much already know.

That quest for something pretty. A cheat. A cliche. Flowers and Christmas lights, it's what we're programmed to love.

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. Like the first monkey shot into space.

That's what I love about fire, how it would kill me as quick as anybody else. How it can't know I'm its mother. It's so beautiful and powerful and beyond feeling anything for anybody, that's what I love about fire.

Just for the record, she still loves you. She wouldn't bother to torture you if she didn't.