The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough. Actually, I know different. And it's still enough.

Boys,' she says, 'just aren't very good at being afraid.

His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain.

You're not going to die," I told her, lifting my head to look at her. "I'm not done writing songs about you yet.

I didn't say I would start a yard." "You didn't have to. I'll come back next year and you'll have a nest of horses outside your window and Puck Connolly in your bed and I'll buy from you instead of Malvern. That's your future for you.

There was something awful about terror trapped behind silence. About latent emotions that couldn't be acted out." "Cole's thoughts on page 248 of Linger.

I had a weird, empty feeling inside me. Not a bad sort of empty. It was a sort of lack of sensation, like being in pain for a long time and then suddenly realizing that you're not anymore. It was the feeling of having risked everything to be here with a boy and then realizing that he was exactly what I wanted. Being a picture and then finding I was really a puzzle piece, once I found the piece that was supposed to fit beside me.