Nature Is Neutral. Nature Doesn't Care How

It's Strange How A Word, A Phrase, A Sentence, Can Feel Like A Blow To The Head.

This Concept Could Easily Have Gone Awry. Stories About Love Tend To Go That Way Sometimes. They Wander Into The Realm Of Cheese And Never Return, Which I Think Is A Shame, Because There Is A Way To Write About Romantic Love Without Breaking Out The Velveeta.

I Have To Face The Fear. I Have To Take Control Of The Situation And Find A Way To Make It Less Frightening.

Color Fills Her Cheeks, And I Think It Again: That Johanna Reyes Might Still Be Beautiful. Except Now I Think That She Isn't Just Beautiful In Spite Of The Scar, She's Somehow Beautiful With It, Like Lynn With Her Buzzed Hair, Like Tobias With The Memories Of His Father's Cruelty That He Wears Like Armor, Like My Mother In Her Plain Gray Clothing.

Tris," Tobias Says, Crouching Next To Me. His Face Is Pale, Almost Yellow. There Is Too Much I Want To Say. The First Thing That Comes Out Is, "beatrice." He Laughs Weakly. "beatrice," He Amends, And Touches His Lips To Mine. I Curl My Fingers Into His Shirt.