Can a person steal happiness? Or is just another internal, infernal human trick?

Sometimes people are beautiful.
Not in looks.
Not in what they say.
Just in what they are.

Even death has a heart.

Why can’t the world hear? I ask myself. Within a few moments I ask it many times. Because it doesn’t care, I finally answer, and I know I’m right. It’s like I’ve been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask.

How do you tell if something's alive? You check for breathing.

Ed?" Ritchie says later. We're still standing in the water. "There's only one thing I want."
"What's that, Ritchie?"
His answer is simple.
"To want.