There is a silence so great that I can hear the ice crystals cracking and falling from eyelashes of girls who will never blink again.
She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.
I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
There is a dark place calling to me, but I will not go just yet. I know I can't return from it.
And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.
My worries always lead to dungeons; I can't imagine a worse thing than to be imprisoned for the rest of one's life, especially with so few years to enjoy what little there is.
Forget who you are and what you think is there, and you'll discover things that don't exist to be known.
I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?
and I've always known it, the way I love a song I hear for the first time, even before I know all the words, the way I love my favorite color, and the way that the train would speed past my bedroom when it was very quiet and I'd feel it in my stomach rushing through me. I love you in a way that I've never felt needed to be said.
I'll tell you something about true love. There's no science to it. It's as natural as the sky.
You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.
I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die.
Vaughn is talking about the heat, and his voice is so excited that it breaks into whispers at times. He loves his madness the way a bird loves the sky.
But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.
In another time, in another place, I wonder who they might have been.
The trick was looking past the illusion, because the exit was never as far away as it seemed.
What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.
I like the idea of something greater than us. We destroy things with our curiosity. We shatter with our best intentions. We are no closer to perfection than we were one hundred years ago, or five hundred.
The thing about hope is that it doesn't go away even when it serves no purpose.
Perhaps... you love too fiercely.
I don't know if it was love or an illusion. I don't know if there's ever a way to be certain.
She's been conned, ruined, left for dead, and she's not going to forgive any of it. She will soldier on, if only out of spite.
Home?' I say. It's a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.
But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.
Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.
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