The condemner and the condemned. The executioner; the blade; the last- minute reprieve; the gasping breath and the rolling sky above you and the thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Love: It will kill you and save you, both.

Sometimes I think maybe they were right all along, the people on the other side in Zombieland. Maybe it would be better if we didn’t love. If we didn’t lose either. If we didn’t get our hearts stomped on, shattered: if we didn’t have to patch and repatch until we’re like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what. If we could just float along, like snow.

The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t.

Love: It will kill you and save you, both

I love you the best way I know how

I’m a liar. I was lying even then.

The boy from the Wilds & the girl from the city

How could anyone who’s ever seen a summer—big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey—pick the snow?

Let me count the ways.

I’m turning radioactive. My blood is radioactive.