I don't like reindeer. They seem like regular deer, only more dangerous.

And on the last day, the bad days become so difficult to recall, because one way or another, she had made a life here, just as I had. The town was paper, but the memories were not. All the things I’d done here, all the love and pity and compassion and violence and spite, kept welling up inside me.

And then we were kissing.....The space around us evaporated, and for a weird moment I rally like my body; this cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around suddenly seemed worth the struggle.

You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth.

Writing does not resurrect. It buries.

Teenagers think they are invincible

Videogame players essentially choose whether to win the game or to die heroically. There's a certain glory in both.