And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It's the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.

Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.

And you can't love, not fully, unless you are loved in return.

If you’re smart, you care. And if you care, you love.

As soon as I look up, his eyes click onto my face. The breath whooshes out of my body and everything freezes for a second, as though I’m looking at him through my camera lens, zoomed in all the way, the world pausing for that tiny span of time between the opening and closing of the shutter.

I love to sleep. I'm an excellent, excellent sleeper.