It's a strange thing, to be talked about instead of talked to.

He sounded absolutely miserable. “Are you ever going to speak to me?

He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

Don't give me that look. I'm not trying to find out who you are. I don't care who you are. I just want to know why it is you are the way you are.

He lifted his eyes to the girl. She looked afraid. She always looked afraid, these days. The world was a scary place. She said: "Take me with you." He woke up.

My whole life, I had thought that my story was, again and again: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he had to risk everything to keep what he loved. But really, the story was: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and his fear ate him alive.

Did you just tell that man you went potty on yourself?" "You. Shut. Up,"I hissed back furiously and chucked the scrubs at his head. "Hurry up before they find out I didn't wet myself. You seriously owe me.