Yaralar. Canınızın yandığının işareti. İyileştiğinizin işareti.

Belki de can acısı ile iyileşmenin arasında yaşıyorduk.

İnsanlar ve kelimelerle ilgili dikkatli olmak nadir rastlanan ve güzel bir şeydi.

"Ama ben kızgınım. Ve bunca kızgınlığın nereden geldiğini hiç bilmiyorum."

Çabam için A alıyordum. Ama yeteneğim için değil. Hayatımın hikayesi.

Bu benim sorunum. Başkalarının bana nasıl hissettiklerini söylemelerini istiyorum. Fakat aynı iyiliği onlara yapmak istediğimden pek emin değilim.

"Onu anlıyor musun?"

"Her zaman değil. Ama sevdiğim insanları her zaman anlamak zorunda değilim, Ari."

"Kuşlar bize gökyüzüyle ilgili bir şeyler öğretmek için varlar."

Kelimeler, içinizde yaşadıklarında farklılaşıyordu.

Hayata trajik bir çerçeveden baktığımı söylemişti.

Kötü bir dünyada yaşayıp da o kötülüğün üzerine nasıl bulaşmadığını anlayamıyordum. İnsan birazcık kötü olmadan nasıl yaşayabilirdi?

All this time. This was what was wrong with me. All this time I had been trying to figure out the secrets of the universe, the secrets of my own body, of my own heart. All of the answers had always been so close and yet I had always fought them without even knowing it. From the minute I'd met Dante, I had fallen in love with him. I just didn't let myself know it, think it, feel it.

"I wished it was raining," he said. "I don't need the rain," I said. "I need you."

"Kiss me." "No," he said. Kiss mne. No." And then he smiled. "You kiss me." I placed my hand on the back of his neck. I pulled him toward me. And kissed him. I kissed him. And I kissed him. And I kissed him. And I kissed him. And he kept kissing me back.

"You said i wasn't afraid of anything. That's not true. You. That's what i'm afraid of. I'm afraid of you Dante."

Sometimes, you do things and you do them not because you're thinking but because you're feeling. Because you're feeling too much. And you can't always control the things you do when you're feeling too much...

I sometimes think that I don't let myself know what I'm really thinking about. That doesn't make much sense but it makes sense to me. I have this idea that the reason we have dreams is that we're thinking about things that we don't know we're thinking about- and those things, well, they sneak out of us in our dreams. Maybe we're like tires with too much air in them. The air has to leak out That's what dreams are.

I love swimming... I love swimming- and you.. Swimming and you Ari. Those are the things i love the most.

My mother and father held hands. I wondered what that was like to hold someone's hand. I bet you could somnetimes fhnd all of the mysteries of the universe in someone's hand.

And it seemed to me that Dante's face was a map of the world. A world without any darkness. Wow, a world without darkness. How beautiful was that?