willing me to understand: that people should be sacrificed to causes, that beauty can be built on the backs of the dead.

Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.

Mistake, mistake, mistake. A strange word: stinging, somehow.

That's when I realized that certain moments go on forever. Even after they're over they still go on, even after you're dead and buried, those moments are lasting still, backward and forward, on into infinity. They are everything and everywhere all at once. They are the meaning.

He looked at me like I was beautiful.

No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.

Popularity's a weird thing. You can't really define it, and it's not cool to talk about, but you know it when you see it. Like a lazy eye, or porn.