If you loved someone, you couldn’t let lies come between you. No matter what happened—even if you’d already lost each other forever—you owed each other the truth.

The library would've cheered me up, most days. I loved the heavy oaken tables, the high walls stacked with books to the ceiling, the musty smell of old pages and the heavy brass fixtures that had gone dark with age and wear.

Lucas," I repeated. "I know you can hear me. The guy I love is still in there. Come back to me." Once again longed for the release of tears. "Death couldn't keep me from you. And it can't keep you from me, not if you don't let it.

Even if that were true, it wouldn't be irony," Lucas pointed out. "Irony is the contrast between what's said and what happens.

I went to him in the doorway and embraced him tightly. "Thank you," I whispered. "You've done so much for us, and we've done nothing for you." "Don't say that." Vic's hands patted my back. "You're my friends. Nothing else to it.

Lucas had told me only one lie, ever; he kept the secret of black Cross because it wasn’t his secret to tell. In every other way, he’d been honest with me and shared the hard truths nobody else thought I deserved to hear.

Every form of art is another way of seeing the world. Another perspective, another window. And science - that's the most spectacular window of all. You can see the entire universe from there.