Taylor Markham," said Raffaela, "I'm going to say a prayer for you." And although I wanted to mock her and explain I didn't believe in anything or anyone, I realised that no one had ever prayed for me before. So I let her.

Sometimes... sometimes keeping alive is too tiring," she whispered, wringing her hands. Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his lips against her brow. "Don't ever say that. Ever.

Sometimes you look at me and it's like all the bullshit gets stripped off and I'm left with what's underneath and I kind of like what I see. Someone who actually fails. Someone who has absolutely no self-control. Someone who says real dickhead things like 'this is complicated.' I like that part of me, you know. I like the fact that I know I can't control you or how I feel about you and that doesn't freak me out.

I'll run one day. Run for my life. To be free and think for myself...I'll run to be emancipated.

If I want more, I need to go and get it, demand it, take hold of it with all my might, and do the best I can with it.

I want to be sitting in front of my computer, where you can press a button to block out your junk mail. These two are my junk mail.

Don't believe in God. Love the world just the way it is.