There's a hazy smile on her lips that won't go away, and her hair is a mess. It's like a brushfire filled with casualties.

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.

The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.

Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.

I can almost see what Gabriel meant when he asked, 'What has the free world got that you can’t get here?' Almost. Freedom, Gabriel. That’s what you can’t get here.

You have a way of looking at things. You make it seem as though everything's going to be okay. I can't imagine a more dangerous thing to have than hope like yours.

Maybe what frightens us about the edge isn't our fear of morality, but the thoughts it leads us to have.