I've loved you since the day I stole the atlas for you," Gabriel says, because he thinks I'm asleep.

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

Her mind is a bird that's trapped inside her skull, flapping and thrashing, never breaking free.

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.

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

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

So many of the things I've wanted are the things I've been taught to fear.