I think people can be trusted to know what makes them unhappy. Maybe we don't always know what we want exactly, but we can usually say what we don't with a fair amount of specificity.

But the world moves on, even when you don’t want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops. That’s harsh and magical and somewhat comforting because nothing is immutable, however much we want it to be. Moments cannot be caught like fossils in amber, ever- perfect,ever-beautiful. They go dark and raw, full of shadows, leaving you with the memories. And the world moves on.

If I ever win you," he said, anger bright in his pale eyes, "it will be because you want me more. Not because he's gone. I'm nobody's second best.

The whole world is like Whitewall's razors I burst out. It cuts us, and we bleed but there's no purpose to it.

I never belonged anywhere until I met you.

He's never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.

I so enjoy it when people assume I'm stupid." "Not that, just very focused on killing.