“This is not what I wantef. This is not why I came to the Wilds, why Alex wanted me to come: not to turn my back and bury the people I care about, and build myself hard and careless on top of their bodies, as Raven does. This is what Zombies do.”

“This is bullshit. You think I care what other people think? What does age have to do with it? Why can't you be that girl? As for what I want to do with my life, why can't I figure that out with you?”

“Why a raven?""To honor my father.""The writing under it, is that Cyrillic?""Yes.""What does it say?""Dar Vorona. Gift of the Raven. I am my father's gift.""The raven is holding a bloody sword.""I never said it was a nice gift.”

“In my return to church, I had learned the hard way to avoid assumptions about other people's faith. For one thing, people kept surprising me. If I listened carefully to them, my conjectures about what they thought usually turned out to be wrong. For another thing, I was insecure enough about my own faith, such as it was, to resent other people telling me what they thought I believed and why they thought I believed it. So I tried to hear what my friends say about joining their loved ones after death without assuming I knew exactly what they meant.”

“Why do you treat me as they do, as though I were exactly what I want to be. Why do we treat people that way?”

“Why do you love me, Angela?'Arsehole. Turning my question back on myself. 'Why do I love you?''It's really easy to say I love you, it's another altogether to explain why,' he said.”