Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

While sight may deceive you, touch rarely does.

So I make no effort to hide my pain. I don’t ever put it all on display like this—but for today and all the rest of the days of the trial, I must. My every flinch, every flicker of pain, will be magnified a hundred times over, then dissected by the pundits and talking heads. But I’m told it’s necessary; the world needs to see me vulnerable and wounded. I cannot appear not to care or to lack remorse, but that removes a crucial component of my self- defense mechanism and leaves me bleeding for all the world to see. I suppose that’s rather the point.

Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I believe in that click. Recognition.

We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.

My heart raced. He needs you, I thought. Don't let him down. I couldn't remember ever being so happy... or so scared.

There are quiet ways to die where the body just doesn’t notice that the heart is gone.