I guess there are some things you never get used to.

But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosion of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?

Live free or die.

It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.

How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?

Fridays are the hardest in some ways: you’re so close to freedom.

Dystopian novels help people process their fears about what the future might look like; further, they usually show that there is always hope, even in the bleakest future.

And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.

i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

Don’t cry for them to be happy. Find courage to overcome the circumstance.

Launching a brand is not for those with thin skin. It takes courage, intelligence and foresight.

Is the whole world doomed to emotional trauma?

I feel sad for him. Sad for the boy bound to the killer. I am sad for the youth betrayed by their leaders for symbols and flags and war and power.

From the crown of my head to the soles of my feet I am Bolshevik, and proud of it.

I guess I accidentally became a part of history. Honestly, when you're young and you're a designer, you have a goal, but that is not the kind of goal that you even think it's possible to achieve.

I only work on my books at nights and at weekends. It is really just like a hobby.

I never have time to myself; it's the one thing about my life I would probably hope to change.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

I like a man who grins when he fights.