I know that the whole point—the only point—is to
find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to
let them go.

We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.

Love will turn the whole world into something greater than itself.

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 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.

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