Sonja

“He's lovely. A bit of a sad mess. Dull and pale and rough around the edges. But still so lovely.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son

“Simon looks over at me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“What?!” he shouts. He can’t hear a thing I’m saying over the wind and the engine and the classic rock.
“I hate this fucking car!” I shout back.

“The sun is burning me! I might actually catch fire, at any moment!” The wind is blowing Simon’s hair straight, and he’s squinting—from the sun and from all the smiling.
“What!” he shouts at me again.
“You’re so beautiful!” I shout back.
He turns the radio down, so now there’s just the wind and the engine noise to shout over.
“What’d you say?!”
“Nothing!”
― Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

“Can I?" He asks.
Can you what, Simon? Kiss me? Kill me? Break my heart?”
― Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son

“It cheers me to imagine that the air that once powered me could power others, to believe that the breath that enables me to engrave these words could one day flow through someone else’s body. I do not delude myself into thinking that this would be a way for me to live again, because I am not that air, I am the pattern that it assumed, temporarily. The pattern that is me, the patterns that are the entire world in which I live, would be gone.”
― Ted Chiang, Exhalation