When my parents fought, I’d run up to my room, put on The Sound of Music, open the window and sing out. My voice was my escape. I saw it as a way out.
CHRISTINA AGUILERA
When I try to describe how I feel when you hold me, I get butterflies, I hear lullabies, it’s hard to explain — like the scent of a rose or the sound of the rain. It’s too precious and too wonderful to give it a name.
