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But of course these are scientists. Tell them to leave something alone, and all they want to do is poke it with a stick.
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I'm running as if the force of the wind whipping around my body will be enough to keep all the pieces of me from crumbling.
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How ironic it would be, to die at his hands while trying to save him, when he first came to me because he was trying to save me.
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I could tell them about the different kinds of rain, pouring rain that's perfect for when you want to stay inside and watch a movie or read, or piercing rain that feels like needles on your skin, or soft summer rain that makes your first kiss with your first love all the sweeter.
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You never know all of a person; you only know them in a specific moment of time.
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I may have spent the morning tracking down a lunatic thanks to a holographic image of my dad, hallucinated, and wound up in a potential terrorist’s office where I had a super weird conversation, but at least pastizzi are normal.
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The silence in our house now is born from the need for intense concentration, as we all carefully step around the truth we wish we didn't know, the person we can't help that Bo became, the future we're all afraid is collapsing around us, falling as silent and cold and crushing as snow.
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A good book will give you answers to questions you didn't know you had. A great book will give you questions to answers you thought you knew.
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Amy looks up at me, her eyes melting jade.
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But sometimes I look at Phoebe and I think about how she had a bird inside her heart. On the outside, she’s just like everyone else, but I like to think that maybe she carries within her something magical and free.
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I told Victria that love is a choice, and I told myself that I didn't have to choose Elder, but I can't forget the way my heart stopped when his did.
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All of them?” I ask. I could almost understand her need to awaken her parents, but we don’t need to add nearly a hundred frozen people to the cacophony of voices around us.
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You could drop me anywhere in the universe, blindfolded, and I'd know this was his room just from the smell.
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I quit thinking.
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I love to write the weird and creepy stuff!
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We all die someday. Maybe the only thing that makes that fact bearable is the idea that death is the only way we can return to the stars.
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We fall into each other. All the other voices in my head--the fear, the doubt, the worry--are drowned out. I die at the end of each kiss and am brought gasping back to life at the beginning of the next. I close my eyes and the entire world fades away.
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This journey... it's long. He says this as if he's felt all 250 years of travel.
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FAILURE IS INEVITABLE. I will fail. We all will. And having failed, and gotten back up, and failed again, taught me that I can survive failure. This is a downfall in most modern stories: the hero always wins. Because while this story is inspiring, it’s also false. In reality, not everyone wins. It’s 100% true that no one wills all the time, and we expect that—every hero must fall at least once. But it’s also 100% true that some people never win at all, and that’s the thing we try so hard to ignore behind the pretty stories. I could spend the rest of my life trying to be a prima ballerina, and it would not happen. I would fail at that for the rest of my life. FAILURE TEACHES US WHO WE ARE. Because even though I know I would fail forever at being a prima ballerina, I also know that I am not someone who should be a prima ballerina. It’s not who I am, it’s not what I want. Of course I would fail at it.
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If we don't have that, what do we have to live for? Does it matter if it's a lie if it keeps us alive?
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I remember the first time I saw the stars. I thought they changed everything. I thought they changed me, like I'd become a different person just by seeing shining specks of light a million miles away. Now when I stare at them, I feel nothing. I don't believe in them anymore.
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Like walking through water. Like drowning.
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And in her smile I see something more beautiful than the stars.
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I've never seen the stars before. And I never knew they were so beautiful.