The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

by V.E. Schwab

The cat, also named Toby (“So I can talk to myself without it being weird…” he explained)

As if you couldn’t like one place and want to see another.

Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.

Addie can account for every second of her life, but that night, with Henry, the moments seem to bleed together.

There will be other dark nights, of course, other wretched dawns, and her resolve will always weaken a little as the days grow long, and the anniversary draws near, and treacherous hope slips in like a draft. But the sorrow has faded, replaced by stubborn rage, and she resolves to kindle it, to shield and nurture the flame until it takes far more than a single breath to blow it out.