I had always thought one could not be truly lost if one knew one’s own heart.

“Black for hunting through the nightFor death and mourning the color's whiteGold…”

“They confused beauty with innocence and harmlessness.”

“Good,” Simon said. “If you want to know why, it’s because you smell like blood.…”

“And broken both your hearts? How would that have benefited me? You are as dear …”