“The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own.”

“We could call you an ambisexual. A duosexual. A—”“Do I really have to find a word for it?” Kyle interrupts. “Can’t it just be what it is?”“Of course,” I say, even though in the bigger world I’m not so sure. The world loves stupid labels. I wish we got to choose our own.We pause for a moment. I wonder if that’s all—if he just needed to say the truth and have it heard. But then Kyle looks at me with unsure eyes and says, “You see, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be.”“Nobody does,” I assure him.”

“We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.”

“I believe that if it were left to artists to choose their own labels, most would choose none.”

“In the end, we make our choices on our own. And no matter how stupid they are, we have to live—or die—with what we’ve done. Sometimes choosing our moment of death is the only freedom we have left.”

“I am anything I wish to be. The world cannot choose for me. No, it is for me to choose what the world shall be.”