Blood is a strange color. It's darker than you expect it to be.

If utopian fiction became the new trend, I wouldn't read it.

People, even genetically damaged people, make choices. That’s what matters.’

I suppose that now would be the time to ask for forgiveness for all the things I've done, but I'm sure my list would never be complete. I also don't believe that whatever comes after life depends on my correctly reciting a list of my transgressions...I don't believe that what comes after depends on anything I do at all.

So small as to be negligible. It's strange, but there's something in that thought that makes me feel almost...free.

Why are you constantly escorting me places?” I say. “Isn’t there a depraved activity you’re supposed to be taking part in? Kicking puppies or spying on girls while they change, or something?

It's easy to be brave when they're not my fears.