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

Suddenly the clouds seem high above us. They’re moving over us in an arch, circling the planet. They have seen abysmal oceans and charred, scorched islands. They have seen how we destroyed the world. If I could see everything, as the clouds do, would I swirl around this remaining continent, still so full of color and life and seasons, wanting to protect it? Or would I just laugh at the futility of it all, and meander onward, down the earth’s sloping atmosphere?

I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.

It taught that there are three versions of things: the one I see in my mind, and the one that carries onto the paper, and then what it ultimately becomes.

I'll tell you something about true love. There's no science to it. It's as natural as the sky.

It's best to let her go," he says. No, no, that's wrong. It's never right to give up on someone.

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