Maybe hope isn't the most dangerous thing a person can have. Maybe love is.

No matter how lonely it makes me, and no matter how wide and horrific the loneliness, at least I remember who I am.

I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

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

...maybe hope isn't such a bad thing. Maybe it's what keeps us together.

I shake my head, watching snow tumble and swirl from an all-white sky. The world seems so clean if you only look up

I wonder if she has figured out that I'll never love Linden, especially not in the way she does, and that he'll never love anyone the way he loves her. I wonder if she realizes, despite all her efforts to train me, that I can never take her place.