The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.

We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop.

Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.

Rhine. The river that, somewhere out there, has broken free.

A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.

Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.

Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.