It's all right, Tessa, you can go. We love you. You can go now.' 'Why are you saying that?' 'She might need permission to die, Cal.' 'I don't want her to. She doesn't have my permission.

I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful.

I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.

It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.

Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear.

Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.

We make patterns, we share moments.

All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I'm sorry to leave you.

Bye, Tess. haunt me if you like. I don't mind.

Keep breathing. Just keep doing it. It's easy. In and out.

If a fox strangles a goose just to eat the brains, you wouldn’t say the fox killed the brains. You’d say the fox offed the goose.

We are not as we were. Death has been our pentecost.

Books are men of higher stature.

The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.

Most people suspend their judgment till somebody else has expressed his own and then they repeat it.

I like playing my Tamagotchi and Game Boy. They take me back to the old days when times were more simple.

In all the ages, three-fourths of the support of the great charities has been conscience money.

Above all, let us pray for our children.

Alas, the very name of picture produces a sadness of heart I cannot describe.

It's twilight. It’s the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way...the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?