Apologies Mean Nothing If You

They're On Their Way To The Foreign-language Wing. That's No Surprise. The Foreign Kids Are Always Here, Like They Need To Breathe Air Scented With Their Native Language A Couple Times A Day Or They'll Choke To Death On Too Much American.

If I Ever Form A Clan, We'll Be The Anti-cheerleaders And Walk Under The Bleacher Forming Mild Acts Of Mayhem.

In One Aspect, Yes, I Believe In Ghosts, But We Create Them. We Haunt Ourselves.

I Doubt Trees Are Ever Told To 'be The Screwed-up Ninth-grader.'

He Says A Million Things Without Saying A Word. I Have Never Heard A More Eloquent Silence.