“Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.”

“I just...love you more than i can even stand, Ryan. It's...overwhelming and amazing. My heart is so full of you, i can't even breathe. You...fill me up.”

“I guess I should be thankful. Full of thank. But what is thank? I can't eat thank, so I know my stomach isn't full of thank. I can't smell or breathe thank, so I know my lungs aren't full of thank. I'm not even sure how much thank I could fit in the trunk of my car. But I do know one thing. It's much easier to give thanks than something that actually costs money to give.”

“His smell—the scent of a demon, cinnamon incense, amber musk—wrapped around me, filled my lungs. I felt like I could breathe again, without every breath being tainted by the stench of dying cells. The smell of him seemed to coat my abused insides with peace, and flow down into the middle of my body to spread through my veins. I filled my lungs again. While I could, before what was undoubtedly a hallucination vanished.”

“Grief, I swear to God, doesn't live in the heart. It lives in the senses. And sometimes, all I want to do is cut off my nose so I can't smell her, hack my fingers off at the joint.”

“I guess you can't live at full-on intensity forever. Lying on the bed of my cell in the dark, trembling, waiting for the soldiers to come in and shoot me - you just can't keep doing that. There's something in the human spirit that won't let you live that way.”