She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power she felt with each breath of wet, briny air.

You are more dangerous than daybreak.

I consider kissing her right there on the dirty couch, but self-preservation stops me. Once someone hurts you, it’s harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn’t stop you wanting them. Sometimes I actually think it makes the wanting worse

The first boy I fell in love with didn't know I loved him, but he managed to break my heart anyway.

She knew she shouldn't feel that way about a monster, but right then, she wanted nothing more than a monster of her very own.

Can't get away from your own self.

She can’t help it. She loves the con. I tell myself I’m not like her, but I have to admit I love it too.