He tried to reconstruct the story in his mind, but it kept getting confused, bleeding into itself like watercolors.

All jobs are odd, or they would be games or naps or picnics.

I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.

Some girls have to go to college to discover what they are good at; some are born doing what they must without even truly knowing why. I felt a hole in my heart shaped like a dark door I needed to guard.

You will always go into that tent. You will see her scar and wonder where she got it. You will always be amazed at how one woman can have so much black hair. You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast. You will always run away with her. You will always lose her. You will always be a fool. You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear. You have already done all of this and will do it again.

... relationships required such vigilance, such attention. You had to hold them together by force of will, and other people took up so much space, demanded so much time. It was exhausting.

The worst thing in the world is having to go back to the dark you shook off.