“Memories always kill nightmares.”

“And I know without being told that she killed herself. And I totally understand why.”

“(D)reams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't.”

“It's always in the rain...”

“I'll always come back to you.”

“Will you stay with me?" I whisper."Always.”

“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?”