Is it possible to tell the truth in a society of lies? Or must you always, of necessity, become a liar?

I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other's wounds; they repair the broken skin.

Here's another thing to remember: hope keeps you alive. Even when you're dead, it's the only thing that keeps you alive.

It's so strange how life works: You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it's taking forever to come. Then it happens and it's over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment before things changed.

There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.

We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.

I didn’t know it would be like this,” he says in a whisper. And then: “I’m scared.