You can't blame a match for a house made of straw, Alek.

Cure for writer's block: blow something up(in the story)

You see, freedom has a way of destroying things.

I'm not sure what I am anymore... Sometimes I think I'm nothing but what other people have done to me―a big collection of brainwashing, surgeries, and cures... That, and all the mistakes I've made. All the people I've disappointed.

We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.

That's how things were out here in the wild, she was learning. Dangerous or beautiful. Or both.

He and I have this... personality conflict. Namely, I think he should get a new one.