I am near fourteen and have never yet seen a hanging. My life is barren.

If Cameron kidnaps you, kills you, then buries your lifeless body in a shallow grave in the desert where your remains lay decomposing for several decades until they're accidentally discovered by some guy on a journey to awaken his spirit at the Salinas Pueblo Missions, can I have your iMac?"
I gaped at her. "You've really thought this out.
"I love your iMac."
"I love my iMac too, and you're not getting her."
"But you'll be decomposing.

The absence of the will to live is, alas, not sufficient to make one want to die.

And," Amber said, practically drooling as she ogled him, "it's tradition for new arrivals to help with the pep rally."
Brooklyn quirked her lips in doubt. "Tradition?"
"It's a new tradition," Amber shot back.
"Clearly the deeper meaning of the word has escaped you.

I want to remake the world; anything less is not worth the trouble.

Love brightens and purifies the heart.