His secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.

We leave Pippa behind, standing in the dark, teeming bowels of the camp, while the sun begins to stain the sky electric, and from all sides the guns draw closer.

Black is too morbid; red will set them on edge; pink is too juvenile; orange is freakish

I’m sorry,” he repeats again, too low for Raven and Tack to hear. “I’m sorry for everything.

With the cure, relationships are all the same, and rules and expectations are defined. Without the cure, relationships must be reinvented every day, languages constantly decoded and deciphered. Freedom is exhausting.

That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.

Mama, Mama, put me to bed I won’t make it home, I’m already half-dead I met an Invalid, and fell for his art He showed me his smile, and went straight for my heart.