Choice, I've always believed, is all that separates us from animals.

Maybe there are some things we were put on this earth not to know.

It's hard to close the door on optimistic expectations when you love someone.

The ornament of beauty, Shakespeare wrote, is suspect. And he was right. But beauty itself, unadorned and unaffected, is sacred, I think, worthy of our awe and our loyalty.

What's your name?" "Emma Gould," she said. "What's yours?" "Wanted." "By all the girls or just the law?

This world can only give me reminders of what I don't have, can never have, didn't have for long enough.

We were supposed to grow old together, Dolores. Have kids. Take walks under old trees. I wanted to watch the lines etch themselves into your flesh and know when each and every one of them appeared. Die together.