It occurs to me that for a long time she has been doing her own version of resisting.

Unhappiness is bondage; therefore, happiness is freedom.

That's the way I feel, at least: like there's a real me and a reflection of me, and I have no way of telling which is which.

You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them. You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist. And there are many of us out there, more than you think. People who refuse to stop believing. People who refuse to come to earth. People who love in a world without walls, people who love into hate, into refusal, against hope, and without fear. I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.

They told us love was a disease. They told us it would kill us in the end. For the very first time I realize, that this, too, might also be a lie.

Maybe this is the secret to talking to boys--maybe you just have to be angry all the time.

And you should hear the music. Incredible, amazing music, like nothing you've ever heard, music that almost takes your head off, you know? That makes you want to scream and jump up and down and break stuff and cry.