Never limit yourself to what you can't do, but to what you have the power to do with what you have.

I doubt I was much of a storyteller, but I would have put that smile in my book. On page 104, right next to the image of the Ward. I would have written it on my heart. I would have proofread it a thousand times under a thousand moons until a thousand tears thoroughly rationalized what it meant to me. Each time for when I’d met the darkness, and then succumbed. The smile read “you can’t break me’”—bold and in italics.

Our love douses us in flames. It's terrible and deep and wingless, but I'll burn here if you burn here too.

I saw a dead bird flying through a broken sky. I heard it, and it said, "The world will never understand.

Stop setting yourself on fire for people who just stand to watch you burn.

And even when they refuse to listen, I'll keep talking anyway, hoping on a slim chance that the things inside my head are worth something to someone.

There's a story here.A catastrophic silence where our thoughts and feelings collide ...Where your sweetness overrides my senses and our bodies move to the same tune.The same song.The same melody.The same stroke.The same rhythm.It's our story, Trinity, and it's just begging to be told.

Life is short, Isobeli. If we gave time to everything sooner or later we'd run out of it. We only have now. And we would be foolish to not seize it while we have it. So, why would it matter if I love him today or five years from now?

Don't judge me by my books. They're not my voices, and they were never my stories to tell.