Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.
Give me time" "For you, always.
There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.
She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.
There are so many of us, so many girls. The world wants us for our wombs or our bodies, or it doesn't want us at all.
I've loved you since the day I stole the atlas for you," Gabriel says, because he thinks I'm asleep.
To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.
I think he's beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.
Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.
Even things that aren't broken can be fixed.
And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.
Real’ is a dirty word in this place.
In the distance I see a lighthouse. The light washes over us and continues on its rotation. This time, I don't know where the light will guide us.
Poor kid,' Jenna says, and rolls her eyes toward me for a moment. Then she returns to her book. 'She doesn't even understand what kind of place this is.
When we were first married, I thought he must have been the most heartless, hateful man I'd ever known, but he was just as much a prisonor as I was. Where Vaughn imprisoned me with walls, he imprisoned his son with ignorance.
We figure out what death means when we're born, practically, and we live our whole lives in some kind of weird denial about it.
On tiptoes the redhead wouldn't even reach my shoulders; she is clearly too young to be a bride. And the willowy girl is too forlorn. And I am too unwilling. Yet here we are.
Gabriel's voice can reach me anywhere. Even in a hurricane.
Living in a place like this, she must have learned how to see all the monsters that can hide a person.
Cure" is one of the most precious words in the English language. It's a short word. A clean and simple word. But it isn't so easy a thing as it sounds. There are questions like: How will this affect us in ten years? In twenty? What will it do to our children? Our children's children?
Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.
He kissed back, all the pages spread out around us like riddles waiting to be solved. Let them wait. Let my genes unravel, my hinges come loose. If my fate rests in the hands of a madman, let death come and bring its worse. I'll take the ruined craters of laboratories, the dead trees, this city with ashes in the oxygen, if it means freedom. I'd sooner die here than live a hundred years with wires in my veins.
Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other." Pg 225
Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
Kettle thingies. Yum.
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