Each step is more difficult than the last; the heaviness fills me and turns my limbs to stone. You must hurt or be hurt.
Dystopian novels help people process their fears about what the future might look like; further, they usually show that there is always hope, even in the bleakest future.
My parents were pretty liberal, but they were still parents. I definitely had my teenage rebellion.
No one had ever told her this basic fact: not everyone got to be loved.
You should only fall in love with people who will fall in love with you back.
For all the people who have infected me with amor deliria nervosa in the past – you know who you are. For the people who will infect me in the future – I can’t wait to see who you’ll be. And in both cases: Thank you.
And how she looked at me like I could save her from everything bad in he world. This was my secret: she was the one who saved me.
Welcome to the free world. We give people the power to choose. They can even choose the wrong thing. Beautiful, isn’t it?
I didn’t realize then what a privilege that was: to be bored with your best friend; to have time to waste.
Despite the fact that Raven and Tack are often fighting, it’s impossible to imagine one without the other. They are like two plants that have grown around each other – they strangle and squeeze and support at the same time.
Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge.
Please understand. Please forgive me. I prayed every day for you to be alive, until hope became painful. Don’t hate me. I still love you.
Why couldn’t you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?
And even though I’m standing in the middle of the biggest crowd I’ve ever seen in my life, I suddenly feel very alone.
But maybe you carried your demons with you everywhere, the way you carried your shadow.
This was what true fear was – that you could never know other people, not completely. That you were always just guessing blind.
You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them.
No one can tell us no. No one can make us stop. We have picked each other and the rest of the world can go to hell.
Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too. The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what.
Maybe it would be better if we didn’t love. If we didn’t lose, either. If we didn’t get out hearts stomped on, shattered; if we didn’t have to patch and repatch it until we’re like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together by who knows what.