Was this normalcy-predictable patterns, the certainty of doing the same thing everyday? Because if so, normalcy was about to make me freak out and start screaming.

He could totally be your boyfriend," [Angel] went on with annoying persistence. "You guys could get married. I could be like a junior bridesmaid. Total could be your flower dog.

Gazzy called over to me "I can't see anything!" "I can't see anything either," Iggy complained. "I'm rolling my eyes, Ig." I had to tell him that because he couldn't see me do it, what with his blindness and all.

Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.” If only she knew.

Save your world. Love it. Protect it, and respect it and don't let haters represent it. Don't leave the saving to anyone else, ever, because, exhibit A - why, hello there - it's way too much for one person. And if you want to skip out on the responsibility train, my whole life - and death - will have been in vain. It's yours. It's all yours for taking! You're not going to waste it now, are you?

He gives my hand a tight squeeze, but that desperation, that urgency between us is gone. No insecurities. Max and Fang. Fang and Max. No longer a question. We just are.

I recommend you stick to your own species, Shy Babe." p. 155