I don't like hope very much. In fact, I hate it. It's the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard. It's bad news. The worst. It's sharp sticks and cherry bombs. When hope shows up, it's only a matter of time until someone gets hurt.

Hope is the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard.

Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.

I will go out again this very night with my rockets and fuses. I will blow them straight out of their comfortable beds. Blow the rooftops off their houses. Blow the black, wretched night to bits. I will not stop. For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.

But you are a different sort of girl. Not at all what I expected you to be. And this is a different sort of time. And so I am hopeful for all the things you may yet find.

When I feel myself slipping to the darkness of my past, I’ll close my eyes and remember this. Remember Jackson.