THE BAD THING ABOUT FEAR Is it requires a reaction. Some hide. Some cry. But, like a dog condemned to a walled yard with no hope of escape or affection, some learn to bite.

Torch every book. Burn every page. Char every word to ash. Ideas are incombustible. And therein lies your real fear.

He did seem like a nice boy. Seeming and being are two different things.

Happily ever after is a concept I'll never believe in.

How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?

Even good girls have secrets, ones even their best friends must guess.

Crank, You See isn't any ordinary monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving its tentacles not just around you, but through you, squeezing not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling until you try to get away. Try, and you hunger for it grasping clutch, the way its tendrils prop you up, your need intensifying exponentially every minute you refuse to admit its being (p.469)