. . . If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, thats enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, "My flower's up there somewhere..." But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important? . . .
Grace, 16. Bands, books, and whatever else. Tell me your stories, I'll tell you mine.