They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.

Love: It will kill you and save you, both

Love is a kind of possession. It’s a poison.

And then, just at that moment, when I'm no longer sure if I'm dreaming or awake or walking some valley in between where everything you wish for comes true, I feel the flutter of his lips on mine.

The tunnels may be long, and twisted, and dark; but you are supposed to go through them.

Are you sure you can't dematerialize? Not even a little?" "I'm sure.

I don't know whether these feelings - this thing growing inside of me - is something horrible and sick or the best thing that's ever happened to me. Either way, I can't stop it. I've lost control. And the truly sick thing is that despite everything, I'm glad.