The flare of the match startled me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the flame, which could only mean one thing: I was manic. I have a fascination with all things incendiary when I'm manic. I surround myself with candles; I cultivate friends with fireplaces; and I simply love to watch things burn. I'll stand for hours plucking strands of hair from my head and tossing them onto the stove just to see them sizzle.
-Terri Cheney, Manic, (p94)
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