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— Cassandra Clare"Maybe that was why she couldn't cry, she realized, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling. Because what was the point in crying when there was no one there to comfort you? And what was worse, when you couldn't even comfort yourself?"
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Lonliness evaporated off of them like the steam off dry ice, and by morning it was just a cloud on the ceiling of the room, then gone with the light.
— Christopher Moore
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Making it through the ceiling to the other side was simply a matter of running on a path created by every other woman's footprints.
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