We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.

That's what time does: We stand stubbornly like rocks while it flows all around us, believing that we are immutable - and all the time we're being carved, and shaped, and whittled away.

That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.

And even though I'm standing in the middle of the biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, I suddenly feel very alone.

No guy in his right mind would ever choose me when there are people like Hana in the world: It would be like settling for a stale cookie when what you really want is a big bowl of ice cream, whipped cream and cherries and chocolate sprinkles included.

Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.

...and once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.