I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.

Every few years we disappear, Zoey. All our cells are replaced by others. Not a single bit of me is the same as when I was last in this room.

Adam strokes my head, my face, he kisses my tears. We are blessed. Let them all go. The sound of a bird flying low across the garden. Then nothing. Nothing. A cloud passes. Nothing again. Light falls through the window, falls onto me, into me. Moments. All gathering towards this one.

I miss him as soon as he goes. When he isn't with me, I think I made him up.

It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me.

It's utterly beautiful not to know my own edges.

When I first saw Ellie, I knew it was her-- she was my fantasy. I didn't want it to be true, but every time I met her it was obvious, and the funny thing was that she was better than the fantasy, like I got more stuff than I'd imagined.