What's that thing you wrote about Simon once, that his eyes followed Baz 'like he was the brightest thing in the room, like he cast everything else into shadow'? That's you. You can't look away from him.

You're wearing at least four different kinds of sweater." "This is a scarf." "You look tarred and sweatered.

How do you not like the Internet? That's like saying, 'I don't like things that are convenient. And easy. I don't like having access to all of mankind's recorded discoveries at my fingertips. I don't like light. And knowledge.

He wished that they could go through life like this. That he could physically put himself between Eleanor and the world.

These things end,” she said. “They always end. Nobody marries their first love. First love is just that. First. It’s implied that something else will follow.

I've never loved the name "Rainbow" - it seems like a name you'd give to your stuffed unicorn - but I really like having an unusual name. It stands out. And it made me feel like it was okay to stand out. To be different.

Eleanor's hair caught fire at dawn. Her eyes were dark and shining, and his arms were sure of her. The first time he touched her hand, he'd known.