Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.

I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.

He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.

. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.

In the enclave, the strong and the physically perfect survived, but if you were strong, you protected the weak until they had an opportunity to grow into their own power.

Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.

You don’t need to be afraid of falling // when there’s someone around to catch you.