You don't reach points in life at which everything is sorted out for us. I believe in endings that should suggest our stories always continue.

Of course. That's what people do in a disordered world, a world of freedom and choice: they leave when they want. They disappear, they come back, they leave again. And you are left to pick up the pieces on your own.

We'll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will ever try to keep up apart.

This is one of my favorite things about the Underground: the crashing of the cymbals, the screeching guitar riffs, music that moves into the blood and makes you feel hot and wild and alive.

Droplets, droplets: we are all identical drips and drops of people, hovering, waiting to be tipped, waiting for someone to show us the way, to pour us down a path.

For a moment, my heart aches for him. I should never have asked him to join me here; I should never have asked him to cross.

Here's another thing to remember: hope keeps you alive. Even when you're dead, it's the only thing that keeps you alive.