He was still in love with you, anyway.
I cry for everything I abandoned and because I, too, have been left behind – by Alex, by my mom, by time that has cut through our worlds and separated us.
You must hurt, or be hurt.
For a second, I feel a sense of overwhelming grief: for how things change, for the fact that we can never go back. I’m not certain of anything anymore. I don’t know what will happen –.
Quiet through the grave go I; or else beneath the graves I lie.
Amor deliria nervosa isn’t a disease of love. It’s a disease of selfishness.
It’s a miracle I was able to get out of the house today. It’s a miracle I’m even wearing pants, a double miracle I remembered to wear shoes.
I can admit, now, that I must have loved Lena. Not in an Unnatural way, but my feelings for her must have been a kind of sickness. How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust – and also to make you feel so whole?
Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.
Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.
We are all punished for the lives we have chosen, in one way or another.
I will make a pact with you: I will do it if you will do it, always and forever. Take down the walls.
Now I’d rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.
I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.
You came form different starts and you’ll come to different ends.
Human beings, in their natural state, are unpredictable, erratic, and unhappy. It is only once their animal instincts are controlled that they can be responsible, dependable, and content.
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.