Because even if the lie is beautiful, the truth is what you face in the end.

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.

There's a sort of dead passion in him. A spark that, had he more years to live, would be a wildfire.

And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.

I like the idea of something greater than us. We destroy things with our curiosity. We shatter with our best intentions. We are no closer to perfection than we were one hundred years ago, or five hundred.

In another time, in another place, I wonder who they might have been.

There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.