“If I reach behind my hair, just at the nape of my neck, I can feel it; the slight bump of the tiny electronic device that the men who invaded New Haven surgically implanted in me. Other chips were placed in the rest of the children stolen from the facility. As far as I can tell, they’re a means of keeping tabs on us…and for most they’re meant to neutralize the gifts we were born with. What they meant to do and what they actually did, however, were far removed from each other.”

“I could feel it then like I feel it now, like a palpable thing inside me, like a physical touch; what we shared was not accidental and nothing close to normal. It was not imagined or fabricated out of loneliness or the conditions under which we were brought to New Haven. It was given to us, meant only for us. It was a gift much like the "special gifts" that brought us to New Haven.”

“What did it mean for us? Because everything I did, everything that happened to me, that was what I asked myself - what does this mean for us. It meant that I was farther away from you, different. It meant that if we let ourselves, we could get closer than we had ever been. Disappear into each other. You’d bleed and I wouldn’t. Then we both would.”

“Sorrow is what I feel for people who aren’t doing what they love. I keep my distance from them as though they’re contagious. They are, I believe.”

“In death, we are not defined by what we did or who we were but by what we meant to others. How well we loved and were loved in return.”

“You were meant for me, Poppy. I can feel it in my fingertips when I touch you.”