It doesn't matter how much his mother loves him; love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

Childhood is a long, long road, from which that dark whispering forest of death seems an impossible destination.

Every star has been set in the sky. We mistakenly think they were put there for us.

I think humans have always been desperate. I think it has always been about doing something awful if it might help, when the only other option is death. Maybe that's what being a parent is supposed to feel like.

To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.

And if I have to die trying, I will get out of here.

We destroy things with our curiosity. We shatter with our best intentions