I know I can't own a hilltop, a meadow, or a mountainside. But keeping it a secret somehow makes it mine.

If I don't talk about it, it's either very displeasing or very precious to me.

There is something quite wonderful about sharing a secret.

For a storyteller, an open ending leaves much room for imagination; for the inquisitive reader, however, it is a source of great anxiety.

Some secrets are heavy because they aren't yours to tell.

When I told you I loved that song, you were meant to listen.

When you are entrusted with a secret, you become irrevocably accountable for what you do or don't do after your mind is colored by the knowledge of it.

We hardly ever talk about trauma afterwards, because it helps to live in a world where we can pretend it never happened.