“This is really enlightening. I didn't know life was supposed to be easy. How could I have lived all these years and not realized life was supposed to be easy? I feel really stupid now.”

“How had it turned into this? I had lived my whole stupid life without him, and now I could barely make it through the hour.”

“You know something?" He lifted his head, and when he turned to me, he had this strange look in his eyes. Almost as if he was really seeing me for the first time. "I don't think I ever really lived until this. I've never done anything that mattered before, but now I'm fighting to save my life, and yours. And I know it sounds really cheesy and lame, but I don't think I ever really felt alive. Not until I met you.”

“It was then that I realized I wasn't afraid to lose my life; I was afraid to lose the life I could've lived.”

“Maybe thinking you're supposed to 'have a life' is a stupid way of buying into an untenable 1950s narrative of what life *supposed* to be. How do we know that all of these people with 'no lives' aren't really on the new frontier of human sentience and preceptions?”

“I only saw fire and chandeliers and smoke. No people. Not the room. Not even a time frame. Do you know how many chandeliers there are in the south wing alone? What was I supposed to do? Tell everyone to avoid chandeliers forever?”

“Sometimes it seems to me that that’s all my life has been, a series of things that I loved deeply that I could never have.”