It’s quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; “We could talk now. We’re alone out here. No walls.””There are always walls.” I say.

Even things that aren’t broken can be fixed.

Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.

When we’re alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it’s as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.

If you’ve never been afraid, you haven’t had your moment of bravery just yet

I told him that wouldn’t be a good idea either.

It is the face of a girl who has seen the world, who realizes that it hates her, and who hates it in return.

It’s best to let her go,” he says.No, no, that’s wrong. It’s never right to give up on someone.

I think he’s beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.

Maybe it is desperation,” I say. “Maybe we can’t let things fall apart without trying. We can’t let go of the people we love.”He looks at me, and in the sunlight his eyes come alive...

You can’t be afraid. You can be sad if you like. You can be angry. But it’s the fear that’ll freeze you in place.

You can try to please everyone and risk accomplishing nothing, or go for your dreams and risk pissing a few people off.

He looks at me, and I don’t know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she’s not here with us now, in this room. It’s just him and me, and the...

You aren’t crazy,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve known you all your life, and you’ve always tried to hide the parts of yourself that you think are wrong. But nothing is wrong with you.’ Those may...

She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

But there’s no such thing as free. There are only different and more horrible ways to be enslaved.

Tell freedom I said hello.

We didn’t make ourselves,” she says. “We aren’t the greatest things to exist. I can’t believe that. I won’t believe that. We have too many faults.

I don’t dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I’m sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else–all the awful stages picking up like...

People die, and everything they’ve ever said just echoes around and around. There’s nothing new. Only the same nonsense from their lives.

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.

‎I have always been fascinated by the ocean, to dip a limb beneath its surface and know that I’m touching eternity, that it goes on forever until it begins here again.

Living in a place like this, she must have learned how to see all the monsters that can hide a person.

Home?’ I say. It’s a word that can mean anywhere and nowhere.

There is a need, in every world, to believe in things that cannot be seen.

This time as we ascend, I watch the world sinking below us. I watch the way the city fades into sand that gets washed by the ocean.

We were his disposable things. Brought to him like cattle. Stripped of what made us sisters or daughters or children. There was nothing that he could take from us—our genes, our bones, our wombs—that would...

He talks softly, patiently, as I sit on the window ledge and watch boats with colorful triangles for sails scratch the ocean.

It taught that there are three versions of things: the one I see in my mind, and the one that carries onto the paper, and then what it ultimately becomes.

His lips are familiar. I know the shape of them, know how to make mine fit against them. His taste is familiar too. For all the illusions and colors and sweet smells… he has always...

We accept gods that don’t speak to us. We accept gods that would place us in a world filled with injustices and do nothing as we struggle. It’s easier than accepting that there’s nothing out...

Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.

We can change so many times in our lives. We’re born into a family, and it’s the only life we can imagine, but it changes. Buildings collapse. Fires burn. And the next second we’re someplace...

Love unrequited is violent. He loves you so much that he’s turned it into hate.

I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

I’m suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

We’re all born an empty page.

To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.

A feeling can’t kill you.

Because even if the lie is beautiful, the truth is what you face in the end.

We writers are resilient souls.

Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.

I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.

I think she’s brave. I think that nobody has ever believed what she could be capable of. All her life, nobody was listening.

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.

She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means…Her smile is her revenge.

A strange thing, words. Once they’re said, it’s hard to imagine they’re untrue.

I think humans have always been desperate. I think it has always been about doing something awful if it might help, when the only other option is death. Maybe that’s what being a parent is...

I have always been fascinated by the ocean, to dip a limb beneath its surface and know that I’m touching eternity, that it goes on forever until it begins here again.

There’s this anomaly that happens sometimes with twins. It occurs in the womb when the fetuses are growing too closely to each other. The stronger twin develops normally, while the weaker twin crumples and is...