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

They never exhale, the trees; on a very windy day, they rustle and inhale, and then the leaves and the branches all tremble as though something means to strangle the life from them. The sky watches on. The world is filled with anticipation, as if to wonder if this day will be a great day, or a horrible day, or the last day.

When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.

You can try to please everyone and risk accomplishing nothing, or go for your dreams and risk pissing a few people off.

I think he's beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.

Linden just wants to protect her, is what I want to say. She's all he has. I left him. I'm at arms reach, but I've left him.

I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.