Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew.

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.

Dystopian, by definition, promises a darker story.

None of the wives mention the security guards by the door, who will probably tackle us to the ground if we try to leave without our husbands.

I wonder what it’s like for her, looking so much like a dead girl.

She's been conned, ruined, left for dead, and she's not going to forgive any of it. She will soldier on, if only out of spite.

I was born into a world that was already dying; I belong to it.