You can't be fearless, remember? Because you still care about things. About your life.

He doesn’t scowl, but his mouth is so tense that I know he’s angry with me. 'Don’t be an idiot,' he says. 'An idiot?' Is he talking about the blanket? 'You were lying.

This concept could easily have gone awry. Stories about love tend to go that way sometimes. They wander into the realm of cheese and never return, which I think is a shame, because there is a way to write about romantic love without breaking out the Velveeta.

And I'm the kind of person who does not let inconsequential things like boys and near death experiences stop her.

I laugh, and it's laughter, not light, that casts out the darkness building within me, that reminds me I am still alive, even in this strange place where everything I've ever known is coming apart.

My dear girl. I am his family. I am permanent. You are only temporary.

We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.