“I'm a joker I'm a smoker I'm a midnight toker I get my loving on the run”

“I'm not running away from my fears," I told Dane. "I'm running away from my relatives.”

“Of course I can climb it. I'm practically a progidy in PE," I pointed out. "The question is, can you, Mr Smoker?”

“Ann, I love you. I hope my car starts. I hope the sink isn't plugged up. I'm glad I didn't fuck a groupie. I'm glad I'm not very good at getting into bed with strange females. I'm glad I'm an idiot. I'm glad I don't know anything. I'm glad I haven't been murdered. When I look at my hands and they are still on my wrists, I think to myself, I am lucky.”

“I don't run for my physical health, though that's a lucky side effect. I run because I'm tortured inside. I run to soothe the violence in my mind, the depression, the panic, the disappointments, the shame, the frustration, the helplessness against time. You could say I'm running from something... though I'd rather think I'm running TOWARD something. Though I'm probably running just to stay in one place. It seems like most of life is just maintenance, after all.”

“My name is Chloe Saunders. I'm fifteen, and I would love to be normal. But normal is one thing I'm not. For one thing, I'M HAVING THESE FEELINGS FOR A CERTAIN ANTISOCIAL WEREWOLF and his sweet-tempered brother—who just happens to be a sorcerer—BUT,BETWEEN YOU AND ME, I'M LEANING TOWARD THE WEREWOLF. Not normal. My friends and I are also on the run from an evil corporation that wants to get rid of us—permanently. Definitely not normal. And finally, I'm a genetically altered necro-mancer who can raise the dead, rotting corpses and all, without even trying. As far away from normal as it gets.”