Soy un mentiroso.Siempre estuve mintiendo. Ella se merecía un ángel, y yo quería serlo por ella.

Fear. Blame. Don’t forget. Mom. I love you.-Lauren Oliver, Delerium

En mi mente, yo estaba reviviendo toda mi vida de nuevo – lentamente, tomando mi tiempo. Retrasándolo. Porque sabía que, tarde o temprano, llegaría a ella.Y entonces… Bueno, ya había muerto una vez. No podría...

Find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.

It was unfair that people could pretend to be one thing when they were really something else. That they would get you on their side and then do nothing but fail, and fail, and fail...

Déjame decirte algo sobre morir: no es tan malo como dicen. Es traer de vuelta a la vida partes que hieren.

I told you,” he whispers back. I can feel his breath just tickling the space behind my ear, making my hair prick up on my neck. “I like you.””You don’t know me,” I say quickly.”I...

Grief is like sinking, like being buried. I am in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt. Every breath is full of choking. There is nothing to hold on to, no sides, no way to...

Extiendo la mano y paso un dedo a lo largo de su clavícula, mi lugar favorito: como las siluetas de unas pequeñas alas.

Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?””I don’t know any other way.””Let me show you.”And then we’re kissing. Or at least, I think we’re kissing—I’ve only seen it done a...

Amazingly, I can still see the stars: whole galaxies blooming from nothing – pink and purple suns, vast silver oceans, a thousand white moons.

Pero nunca volví sin recordar el fuego — la forma en que se comió el cielo, el sonido de una casa, un algo, encogiéndose a nada.Era por esto que era como el despertar en las...

He is my world and my world is him and without him there is no world.

I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other’s wounds; they repair the broken skin.

Estaba pensando en Lena. Por supuesto. Siempre estaba pensando en Lena.

I’d rather die on my own terms than live on theirs. I’d rather die loving Alex than live without him.

The rules of Panic are simple. Anyone can enter. But only one person will win.

Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.

This is what I want. This is the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Everything else—every single second of every single day that has come before this very moment, this kiss—has meant nothing.

This is the strange way of the world, that people who simply want to love are instead forced to become warriors.

We’ll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will ever try to keep up apart.

Hope keeps you alive.

Alex loved books. He was the one who first introduced me to poetry. That’s another reason I can’t read anymore.

Lord, help us root our feet to the earthAnd our eyes to the roadAnd always remember the fallen angelsWho, attempting to soar,Were seared instead by the sun and, wings melting,Came crashing back to the sea.Lord,...

I know the rules. I’ve been living here longer than you have.”He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. “Hardly.””Born and raised. You’re a transplant.” I nudge him again, a little harder, and he...

Everything has taken on a strange, distant quality – the sounds of running and shouting outside get warped and weird like they’re being filtered through water, and Alex looks miles away. I start to think...

The idea—the fact of it, the fact that he even noticed and thought about me for more than one second—is huge and overwhelming, makes my legs go tingly and my hands feel numb.

And it’s the funniest thing: as soon as I see it, the whistling in my ears stops and the feeling of terror drains away, and I realize this whole time I haven’t been falling at...