I guess we're oil and water. (Phoebe) I'd say we're more like gasoline and a blowtorch. (Dan)

She (Daisy) dug her nails into her palms and told herself she had no choice. "I, Theodosia..." She gulped for air. "...take thee Alexander..." She gulped again. "...to be my awful wedded husband.

Ironic, isn't it, what religion does to people?" "I guess it's more ironic what people do to religion.

I hate to admit this, but some days hearing about other people's problems actually cheers me up.

I finally figured out that not every crisis can be managed. As much as we want to keep ourselves safe, we can't protect ourselves from everything. If we want to embrace life, we also have to embrace chaos.

I love you, Daisy. I love you so much I hurt.

She gestured toward his very fine chest with her pencil. “On the off chance I find out after we’re married that your declaration of abiding love and devotion has been an elaborate con job perpetrated by you, Bodie, and Scary Spice…” He massaged her arch. “I definitely wouldn’t lose too much sleep over that.” “Just in case. You will give me all you worldly goods, shave your head, and leave the country.” “Deal.” “Plus, you have to hand out your Sox tickets so I can burn them in front of your eyes.