I think if I'm ever asked to recall what Year 12 was all about, I'll remember it as one big cappuccino experience.

If you weren't driving, I'd kiss you senseless," I tell him. He swerves to the side of the road and stops the car abruptly. "Not driving any more.

Maybe she'd always been there. Maybe strangers enter your heart first and then you spent the rest of your life searching for them.

A blind man can see what she feels for you and you for her. Your souls are not merely entwined; they are fused.

In the end, the sum of my vices is all me.

Someone asked us later, "Didn't you wonder why no one came across you sooner?" Did I wonder? When you see your parents zipped up in black body bags on the Jellicoe Road like they're some kind of garbage, don't you know? Wonder dies.

Women are elephants and watch the way you say that in front of them because they'll think you're calling them fat and there's no coming back from that moment. But they hoard. They say they don't, but they do. We think that if something's not spoken about again, it goes away. It doesn't. Nothing goes away just like that.