One might think that a boy who was out in the snow for so long would get cold, but Max was not. He was warm, partly because he had on many layers, and partly because boys who are part wolf and part wind do not get cold.

My parents told me they were going to kill me at least a thousand times growing up. "I'm gonna kill you," and then they'd whack me on the side of the head or whatever. And "What's wrong with you?" And "I'm gonna lock you up," and "I'm gonna throw you out the window," and "I'm gonna kill you." You know, all these things that you say in the heat of a normal chaotic household.

At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine and my eyes were mine and my ears, which could only hear the silence of this night and my faint breathing, were mine, and I loved them and what they could do.

All we really want is for no one to have a boring life, to be impressive, so we can be impressed. ~ on the friends we choose.

I'm better than you think. I'm even better than I think I am.

Every time I get through the work on a book of nonfiction, I say I'll never do it again; it takes so much out of you.

My head was a condemned church with a ceiling of bats, but I swung from this dark mood to euphoria when I thought about leaving.