My skill didn't lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.

I'll always want him. Until every sun goes dark in every sky, until I am nothing more than long-forgotten cosmic dust, I will want him. And even then I suspect my particles will long for his.

While sight may deceive you, touch rarely does.

I’m sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.

You ever have that feeling? Like you’ve known someone your whole life but you don’t know them at all.

Sometimes I could almost hate you because you don't understand how much you mean to me, how dark and empty I was before. Solnyshko moyo.

I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.” But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.