When I was a little kid, before I learned how to write, I would tell stories.

You're killing me here! You are far more dangerous than I am!

You can bite me if you want. I want you to.

I'm not all you need, and I don't even want to be. I just want to love you, for the rest of my life, and as long as you let me do that, we'll be okay.

It's a hard life, but it's the only life we have. And sometimes-' he pointed to a bright flash of lightening, its jagged light stretching from the sky to the ground, '-it's still beautiful. Sometimes you find something that makes this all worth it. And when you do, you hang onto it for as long as you can.' He turned to me, shrugging one shoulder. 'That's the best you can do.

I haven’t prepared my speech yet,” I sighed and Tove stood up. “What should I say about him?” “Well, if you plan to say anything nice, you’re going to have to lie,” Tove muttered as he walked over to his closet.

A foolish man thinks he knows everything. A wise man knows he doesn't," Finn replied absently, still looking down at the book. "That's such a fortune-cookie answer," I said with a laugh, and even he smirked at me.