It's hard as hell to hold on to your dignity when the risen sun is too bright in your losing eyes, and that's what I was thinking about as we hunted for bad guys through the ruins of a city that didn't exist.

Gus:What's that? Hazel:That laundry basket? Gus:No, next to it. Hazel:I don't see anything next to it. Gus:It's my last shred of dignity. It's very small.

It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this weirdly painful joy, but I couldn't say it back. I just looked at him and let him look at me until he nodded, lips pursed and turned away, placing the side of his head against the window.

Don't worry. Worry is useless. I worried anyway

I cut a glance to him, and his eyes were still on me.
It occurred to me why they call it eye contact.

People talk about the courage of cancer patients, and I do not deny that courage. I had been poked and stabbed and poisoned for years, and still I trod on. But make no mistake: In that moment, I would have been very, very happy to die.