April frowned, irritation evident. “I did not consent to your presence,” she said peevishly. “Please depart, and attempt your political assassination on someone else’s property.

That's the beauty of the future. We get to change it.

At least you know that you're crazy. That means you have the potential to recover.

That’s the trouble with being scared all the time. Eventually, people just go numb.

If we didn't fear the truths we didn't hear, we'd lose the need to fear the ones we did.

I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son.

We were the ones on scene when everything went down. We weren't better. We weren't worse. We were just the ones standing in the blast radius.