I figured it out eventually," she says. She's sitting on the edge of the gurney again; her features slowly materialize as my vision clears. "It's momentum." "What?" I whisper. The feeling returning to my lips, spreading out to my fingertips and toes. "Momentum," she repeats. "You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.

I lost everyone I loved," I tell him. I wait for him to look at me, and then I add, "The day I met you.

Write words you’re willing to burn at the stake for. Write words you’d believe in even if the rest of the world didn’t.

Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.

Most dystopian, classic and contemporary, paints a future world that puts a twist on present society - a future world that could plausibly happen.

He kissed back, all the pages spread out around us like riddles waiting to be solved. Let them wait. Let my genes unravel, my hinges come loose. If my fate rests in the hands of a madman, let death come and bring its worse. I'll take the ruined craters of laboratories, the dead trees, this city with ashes in the oxygen, if it means freedom. I'd sooner die here than live a hundred years with wires in my veins.

No matter how lonely it makes me, and no matter how wide and horrific the loneliness, at least I remember who I am.