“He wanted more, as did I, but we still had a ways to go. I wasn’t a tease and my demands seemed pretty reasonable: always be honest and try not to eat me. ~ Sam, Living Violet”

“I didn’t say anything. I just took his hand in mine, and laid it over my heart that was still pounding wildly in my chest. I wasn’t sure why I did it, or where my logic went in that particular moment. Maybe I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone in the way he felt and that the kiss had reignited something in me, as well. I didn’t know for sure.”

“Let’s go eat turkey before I beat the crap put of my cousin.”The way he said it, Vlad wasn’t sure if Henry wanted to eat instead of beating Joss to a pulp, or if he just didn’t want to do it on an empty stomach.”

“He wasn’t even sure he was alive, because he was living like a dead man. Whereas it looked as if I was the one who’d come up emptyhanded. But I was sure about me, about everything, surer than he could ever be, sure of my life and sure of my death I had waiting for me… I had been right, I was still right, I was always right. I had lived my life one way and I could just as well have lived it another. I had done this and I hadn’t done that… Nothing, nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he. Throughout the whole absurd life I’ve lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living. What did other people’s deaths or a mother’s love matter to me; what did his God or the lives people choose or the fate they think they elect matter to me when we’re all elected by the same fate, me and billions of privileged people like him who also called themselves my brothers?”

“So you did get it?” I asked, suddenly babbling. “I wasn’t sure. I mean, sometimes we don’t get very good reception at school. But I guess you know that, living on a farm and all.” Shut up, shut up, shut up .He smiled slowly. “Hunter, are you nervous?”“Shut up.”“Are you going to ask me to prom?” he teased.“Shut up,” I repeated, choking on a horrified laugh.He grinned. “I look pretty good in a tux.”I rolled my eyes, suddenly comfortable again. “And you’re so refreshingly modest.”

“The day that I left my home, I had prayed that my children would forget me. I wanted to spare them the pain of remembering. But that night, as I crouched in the white mist, waiting, I knew more than anything that I wanted them to remember, I wanted desperately to go on living in someone's memory. If we are not remembered, we are more than dead, for it is as if we had never lived.”