Amor deliria nervosa isn't a disease of love. It's a disease of selfishness.
If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.
That is the strangest thing about the world: how it looks so different from every point of view.
It's the way he says my name: like music.
For a second I feel a rush of sadness: for the horizons that vanish behind us, for the people we leave behind, the tiny-doll selves that get stored away and ultimately buried.
I don't know where to go. I don't know what comes now." "Don't worry," Will said. "We'll figure something out." Liesl managed to smile at him. She liked that word: *we*. It sounded warm and open, like a hug.