Give me time" "For you, always.

I don’t have too many books, I have too little shelving.

It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone.

I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?

But there’s no such thing as free. There are only different and more horrible ways to be enslaved.

Momentum,' She repeats. 'You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.

Perhaps... you love too fiercely.