Even if that were true, it wouldn't be irony," Lucas pointed out. "Irony is the contrast between what's said and what happens.

People get stupid when they're in love; people want what they can't have; and the years between ages twelve and eighteen always, always suck.

If you loved someone, you couldn’t let lies come between you. No matter what happened—even if you’d already lost each other forever—you owed each other the truth.

In my opinion, all boyfriends should turn out to be secretly wealthy.

Lucas seemed to have realized our prediciment at the same moment I had. "I haven't got my credit card with me. Kinda left in a hurry. We just spent the only cash I had in my pocket." Too-bright signs from the few open stores made mee squint. "We'd have been better off with a slingshot and Oreos.

But do you want this? It's not much of a life. Don't you see? It's the first life I've had in four hundred years. With you--in the only way that matters--I'm alive again.

Lucas," I repeated. "I know you can hear me. The guy I love is still in there. Come back to me." Once again longed for the release of tears. "Death couldn't keep me from you. And it can't keep you from me, not if you don't let it.