I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back to me.

He's got to let go of you sometime.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me - even before I was off the street - as soon as I heard his voice.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously. I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth. "I'm trying to figure out what you are."

You're awfully small to be so hugely irritating.

Books have been thought of as windows to another world of imagination

You’ve got to have a little more confidence in us than that. It’s insulting.