We figure out what death means when we're born, practically, and we live our whole lives in some kind of weird denial about it.

It doesn't matter how much his mother loves him; love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

Poor kid,' Jenna says, and rolls her eyes toward me for a moment. Then she returns to her book. 'She doesn't even understand what kind of place this is.

I want to make the world into something better so that he can be okay.

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

Love is not enough to keep any of us alive.

My sisters were in that van.