"We could fight the fuss till we get like friends, Or somebody bite the dust and we split like ends. Even in our wildest moments, girl, I'm on it cause you're worth it. Practice makes perfect, so we fightin' for a purpose."

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We are constantly telling ourselves what we most want to know, and at the same time are deaf to it. Why does envy have such a fierce bite? Why do we fall silent or get worried just as our story is about to spring out of our control and into its own life? Whose shadow falls across the page?

— Bonnie Friedman