His face was in my neck and he was breathing hard. Was he grieving me? Already? Would he miss me? Had I, in some tiny way, come to matter to this enigmatic, hard, brilliant, obsessed man? I realised he'd come to matter to me. Good or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.

Hope strengthens. Fear kills[...] That simple adage is master of every situation, every choice. Each morning we wake up, we get to choose between hope and fear and apply one of those emotions to everything we do. Do we greet things that come our way with joy? Or suspicion?

He knows what I'm thinking. Always. We're connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.

If you weaken, I'll be strong. If you get lost, I'll be your way home. If you despair, I'll bring you joy. I will love you until the end of time.

No way. I'm not going in there. I draw the line at grave-robbing, Barrons. It's not your pen.

The kind of person that thanks another person never survives. Have you learned nothing?

How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?