But now Warner’s eyes are moving, studying me. He looks at me with such intensity I wonder if he’s even aware he’s doing it. I wonder if he knows that when he looks at me like that I can feel it as acutely as if his bare skin were pressed against my own, that it does things to me when he looks at me like that and it makes me crazy.

It is only in the desperate seconds before death that we realize the windows against which we broke our bodies were only mirrors, all along.

All this has managed to prove is that you are extremely good at turning me off.

Politics, it turns out, is a science I don’t yet understand .Killing things, breaking things — destroying things? That, I understand. Getting angry and going to war, I understand. But patiently playing a confusing game of chess with a bunch of strangers from around the world? God, I’d so much rather shoot someone.

There is a strange kind of freedom in giving up.

I think you’re wonderful.” “Wonderful, huh?” “Yep,” I say, and link my arm in his. “You’re smart and funny and kind and — ” “Handsome,” he says. “Don’t forget handsome." “And very handsome

I mean, I deserve to be happy, don't I?" (...)"You deserve to be the happiest

I open the book and turn to the next page. Day three.I started screaming today.And those four words hit me harder than the worst kind of physical pain.

This," he says, touching the air between us, “is an exception to a very hard rule.