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Kindle Notes & Highlights
So much of one’s life was spent reading; it made sense not to do it alone.
His heart in his chest felt dangerously full, swollen and tender, like a fruit so ripe it threatens to split its skin.
He needed Owen, but Owen—being himself whole, or never farther than one well-rolled joint from whole—would never need him.
“You told me once that a soul isn’t something a person is born with but something that must be built, by effort and error, study and love.
