I'm scared," he says."I know," says the nurse."I want you all to go to Hell.""That's natural.

You never realize the holes a person leaves behind until you fall into them.

It comes with being sixteen," Mom said. "You teenagers, you go into a cocoon when you turn fifteen and don't come out for years." "So they become butterflies when they finally come out?" my little sister Christina asked. "No," Mom said. "They're still caterpillars, only now they're big fat caterpillars that smell.

Who am I? The sum of your dreams, the thrill you refuse to grasp, the unknown you fear.

The living would come up with endless theories to argue, because the living were exceptionally good at arguing, especially when no one knew the answer.

Fine," Connor tells him. "Think about stuff until your head explodes. But the only thing I want to think about is surviving to eighteen." I find your shallowness both refreshing and disappointing at the same time. Do you think that means I need therapy?

does a sick society get so used to its illness that it can't remember being well? what if the memory is too dangerous for the people who like things the way they are?