Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.
I didn't feel anything watching him go. I didn't even wish I did.
The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does, and all the wishing in the world for the way things were, or for what they could have been, won't change that. It won't change how things are.
I wish it had never happened because then I wouldn't think about it as I'm falling asleep.
The story of my life can be told in silver: in chocolate mills, serving spoons, and services for twelve. The story of my life has nothing to do with me. The story of my life is things. Things that aren’t mine, that won’t ever be mine. It’s all I’ve ever known. I wish it wasn’t.