How am I supposed to make even basic decisions now that I know how little I know?
. . .
It’s hard to hide from someone who loves you.
. . .
Most people really like to talk about themselves; it doesn’t take much encouragement.
. . .
He promised to try, and he is trying, and he keeps taking me off guard. First I don’t know what’s coming, and then I don’t know what’s hit me … And I can’t believe how much better it is. Bracing for something instead of more nothing.
. . .
Why doesn’t anyone call their mothers[?]
. . .
“Anything worth believing in should stand up to some interrogation!” She hits the table again. “Truth doesn’t burn in the sunlight!”
. . .
Like, don’t think about the fact that you don’t have magic and you killed your mentor and you have a fucking tail now … (I’m the “you,” obviously.) Just think about the next few hours. Are you going to have lunch? Are you going to see your friends? Will you take a walk?
. . .
I don’t understand what this is. Why people do it. Why we stoke fires in each other. What are we burning?
. . .
It’s his eyes that I fell in love with. Not their beauty. But the way they see everything. And feel everything. Martin takes the whole world in. That’s a tremendous thing—to be able to hold the world inside of yourself, and still feel compassion for it.
. . .
It isn’t "letting someone down" to be depressed.
. . .
I know he’s damaged and insecure, but he keeps questioning the one thing I know for certain. It’s insulting. “I’ll always come back,” I say.
