We should be protected from the people who will leave us in the end, from all the people who will disappear or forget us.

Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is different--it is being alive.

And when I wake up it's wonderful, like I've been carried quietly onto a calm, peaceful shore, and the dream, and its meaning, has broken over me like a wave and is ebbing away now, leaving me with a single, solid certainty. I know now.

That’s what you do for family. Anything.

This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.

There's that confidence again, that semi-infuriating easiness of his, the tilt of his head and the smile. but today it's not infuriating. Today I like it, feel like it's somehow rubbing off on me, like if I was around him enough I would never feel awkward or frightened or insecure.

This was what being cured was like: like being in a fishbowl, circling always inside the same glass.