“You’re cooking?”“I think the right word here would be ‘trying’,” Tate mumbled… “Would this have anything to do with whoever that is barfing up a lung in the bathroom upstairs?”

“Kat tipped her head back, meeting my stare. Her throat worked on her next words. "I think I might love you."Air punched out of my lungs. I held her tight, and I knew right then I would burn down the whole universe for her if I had to.I would do anything to keep her safe. Kill. Heal. Die. Anything. Because she was my everything.”

“Air punched out of my lungs. I held her tight, and I knew right then I would burn down the whole universe for her if I had to. I would do anything to keep her safe. Kill. Heal. Die. Anything. Because she was my everything.”

“I would go down to the kitchen, saying 'How do you do?' to whoever I met there: ...'How are you, Mrs. Cakebread?' (That was the cook: that really was her name, it wasn't a joke and no-one laughed it it.)”

“You do not have to utter anything you do not want to utter,” I told her, and she said, “Then I would never utter another word again.” “You do not have to do anything that you do not want to do.” “Then I would never do anything again.”

“They always said on TV you could do anything you wanted, but here I was trying to do something and it wasn't working. I would never be able to do it.”