His hands are holding my cheeks, and he pulls back just to look me in the eye and his chest is heaving and he says, "I think," he says, "my heart is going to explode," and I wish, more than ever, that I knew how to capture moments like these and revisit them forever. Because this. This is everything.

And some days I wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive.

I'm oxygen and he's dying to breathe.

Torture is not torture when there’s any hope of relief.

I feel like I've been split open and stuffed with sunshine.

Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them.

People seldom realize that they tell lies with their lips and truths with their eyes all the time.