“It’s so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That’s above and beyond everything else, and it’s not a mental complaint - it’s a physical thing, like it’s physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don’t come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people’s words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet.”
“Her heart sank into her shoes as she realized at last how much she wanted him. No matter what his past was, no matter what he had done. Which was not to say that she would ever let him know, but only that he moved her chemically more than anyone she had ever met, that all other men seemed pale beside him.”
“The more I followed Him, the more I loved Him.The more He revealed Himself to me through His Word, the more my life was transformed for His glory. I, too, was enthralled. I couldn't wait to spend time with Him. I was ruined for anything else but Jesus.”
He still held her hand. They were going to apparate—she guessed that a moment before it happened, and though she never consciously closed her eyes, when it was all over, she found herself opening them, blinking up in the glow of an orange street lamp.