Even the greatest movements on earth, have their beginnings with something small.

I've been so used to thinking of what the borders are keeping out that I haven't considered that they're also penning us in.

Sometimes I'm afraid to go to sleep because of what I'm leaving behind.

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.

It's surprisingly nice out here, peaceful and pretty-strange to be standing in the middle of a little garden while enclosed by the massive stone walls of the prison, like being at the exact center of a hurricane, and finding peace and silence in the middle of so much shrieking damage.

Everyone you trust, everyone you think you can count on, will eventually disappoint you.

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.