Mama, Mama, put me to bed I won’t make it home, I’m already half-dead I met an Invalid, and fell for his art He showed me his smile, and went straight for my heart.

I think of the quietness of Julian's voice as he said I love you, the steadiness of his rib cage rising and falling against my back, as we sleep.I love you, Julian. But the words don't come.

This is what we are made for: promises, pledges, and sworn oaths of obedience.

that's what it was like waking up in the crypts. no-longer-dead. but without her. like burning alive.

That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.

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

...if you are one tardy away from missing out on a big competition, you should probably make your coffee at home.