I was a fairly shy person - not the hand raising type.

That was part of her, and you used to know it. It's like now you only care about the Alaska you made up.

Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

If you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all.

In the end, what you do isn't going to be nearly as interesting or important as who you do it with.

I choose the labyrinth.

This was what I liked most about my friends: just sitting around & telling stories.