“Maybe it is desperation. Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love.”

“Maybe it is desperation," I say. "Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love."He looks at me, and in the sunlight his eyes come alive with greens and golds. "Sometimes we can," he says.”

“We hope for things we may not get to see, and we hold on with both hands because it's one of the few things that can't be stolen from us.”

“Maybe hope isn't the most dangerous thing a person can have. Maybe love is.”

“Even the human race can't claim to be natural anymore. We are fake, dying things. How fitting that I would end up in this sham of a marriage.”

“His three wives are huddled together on the bare mattress, one of them dying; when we're together, we form an alliance he can't touch. He's scared to even try.”

“We have each other, and we always will, whatever happens. And if someone does murder me, you needn’t worry because I’ll come haunt you.”He smirks. “Rattling the windows and tipping glasses and things?”“I’d say nice things while you slept so you’d have good dreams,” I say. “Or maybe mean things if I’m jealous of the other girls you smile at.”