Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.

The seeds are tiny, unborn things, and I resent them. They'll be planted and they'll grow into exactly what they're meant to be.

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.

Dystopian, by definition, promises a darker story.

There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.

I want to make the world into something better so that he can be okay.