“I feel myself acting like a lunatic, but I can't stop. It would be like refusing to breathe.”

“What does it feel like to be infected?""I-- I can't describe it." I force the words out. Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. His skin smells like smoke from a wood fire, like soap, like heaven. I imagine tasting his skin; I imagine biting his lips. "I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.”

“I can learn to pity a fool as I'm the worst of allAnd I can't stop feeling sorry for myself”

“I was afraid like a virgin of the act. I would have liked death to come with due warning, so that I could prepare myself. For what? I didn't know, nor how, except by taking a look around at the little I would be leaving.”

“I closed my eyes, sucked in breath and felt like a slut.This was mainly because I was acting like one.”

“I feel more like myself. That is all I need: to remember who I am. And I am someone who does not let inconsequential things like boys and near-death experiences stop her.”