Day leans in toward me. He reaches up to touch my face. I can tell it still hurts him to use his fingers, and his nails are dark with dried blood. "You're brilliant," he says. "But you're a fool to stay wish someone like me."I close my eyes at the touch of his hand. "Then we're both fools.

Because I think you're right. You can make a difference." He told me experiences were kind of like fate, and fate usually came in the form of a test. He told me fate liked to be worshiped. It liked to see us fall on out knees before it offered to help us up..." _

They couldn__ have known that even this was a lie__hat we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven__ chosen at all.But maybe happiness isn__ in the choosing. Maybe it__ in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

Adrian smiled and clasped my hands, taking a few steps toward me. "And as for who you are, you__e the same beautiful, brave, and ridiculously smart caffeinated fighter you__e been since the day I met you._ Finally, he put __eautiful_ at the top of his list of adjectives. Not that I should have cared.__weet talker,_ I scoffed. __ou didn__ know anything about me the first time we met.___ knew you were beautiful,_ he said. __ just hoped for the rest.

Unhappiness is bondage; therefore, happiness is freedom.

You can make it if you try. Don't give up or quit the fight. If you believe, you will see, you can do it.