“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.”

“This ship is built on secrets; it runs on secrets", he says, tiny droplets of spittle flying from his mouth to my face. "And if you keep asking about them, you'll see how far I'm willing to go to keep mine." ~ Eldest”

“I feel alone.I don't mean i feel lonely; I mean i feel alone, the same way i feel the blanket resting on my body, or the feathers of my pillow under my head, or the tight string of my sleep pants twisted up around my waist. I feel alone as if it were an actual thing, seeping throughout this whole level like mist blanketing a field, reaching into all the hidden corners of my room and finding nothing living but me. It's a cold sort of feeling, this.”

“I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.”

“I saw you running," she says, her attention on the rabbit. "What were you running from?""Just running," I say. She watching me silently and intently, like a cat."Why?" she asks.I shrug. "Why not?""It's not Productive." She says it like productivity is holy, the only thing worth having."So?" ~Amy”

“He blinks. Touches the side of my face, near my eyes. My eyes that are blue now, not green. With oval irises."I'm still me," I say, because my greatest fear now is that he doesn't want a hybrid Amy.He cocks an eyebrow. "You think I care if your eyes are blue or green? I just care about you." His hand slips down my arm, and he wraps his pinky finger around mine."You came back to me," I say, my voice breaking over unshead tears of joy."I'll always come back to you," he tells me pulling me close.Always.”

“It is like a piece of my soul had been lost, empty, and it is now filled with the light of a million stars.”