You in trouble?” Sam asks. The way he says it, I wonder if he’s thinking about how to get out of here if I am.

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

The funny thing about good people—people like Daneca—is that they really honestly don’t get the impulse toward evil. They have an incredibly hard time reconciling with the idea that a person who makes them smile can still be capable of terrible things. Which is why, although she’s accusing me of being a murderer, she seems more annoyed than actually worried about getting murdered. Daneca seems to persist in a belief that if I would just listen and understand how bad my bad choices are, I’d stop making them.

The truth is messy. It's raw and uncomfortable. You can't blame people for preferring lies.

He was saying that the end of the world wasn't an accident; it was a joke.

We’re all dying, Cassel. It’s just that some of us are dying faster than others.

I can walk into someone's house, kiss their wife, sit down at their table, and eat their dinner. I can lift a passport at an airport, and in twenty minutes it will seem like it's mine. I can be a blackbird staring in the window. I can be a cat creeping along a ledge. I can go anywhere I want and do the worst things I can imagine, with nothing to ever connect me to those crimes. Today I look like me, but tomorrow I could look like you. I could be you.