The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.

I always get lost in the library,' he said, 'no matter how many times I go. In fact, I think I get lost there more, the more that I go. Like it's getting to know me and revealing new passages.

I don’t want to kiss a stranger,” Cath would answer. “I’m not interested in lips out of context.

Ah." He set down his backpack and pulled out their notebook. "You're working on your final project?" "Indirectly," Cath said. "What does that mean?" "Have you ever heard sculptors say that they don't actually sculpt an object; they sculpt away everything that isn't the object?" "No." He sat down. "Well, I'm writing everything that isn't my final project, so that when I actually sit down to write it, that's all that will be left in my mind.

I don't know if I even believe in that anymore. The right guy. The perfect guy. The one. I've lost faith in "the". How do you feel about "a" and "an"? Indifferent. So you're considering a life without articles?

To really be a nerd, she'd decided, you had to prefer fictional worlds to the real one.

Ophelia was bonkers, right? And Juliet was what, a sixth-grader?