“The first time I met you, I fell in love with you there and then, but you didn't notice me. Then you stood me up. And then I met you again and I hated you. Well, I tried to hated you, but then when you cleaned up after Welly... I fell in love with you all over again.”

“So what are you doing around here?" I ask, feeling all jittery, but this time it's in a good way."Oh, I was just in the area." he says vaguely. "I thought I'd take Welly for a walk..." He trails off and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Those butterflies are going crazy in there.”

“But I figure you're never too old to learn. That's when you become old, when you stop being fascinated by things, when you stop wanting to learn and explore ...”

“One day you'll hear that song you both liked on the radio and it won't make you cry. You'll wake up one morning and they won't be the first thing you think about, or the last thing you think about when you're falling asleep at night. Their face won't be the one you see any more when you close your eyes, or in a crowd when you're walking down a street. And when something makes you laugh, or cry, they won't be the person you want to share it with.”

“You can't make yourself fall in love, just as you can't choose who you fall in love with.”

“Because you will meet somebody more exceptional than anyone you have ever know. Who will love you warmly as possible. And who will so completely attract you that you will feel you never really loved before.”

“So, who is it?" Stella is persisting, somewhat suspiciously. "What's his name?"But if I don't tell her the truth, what do I say? My mind draws a blank. I don't want to lie to her- "um..." walking back to the bedroom, I notice the postcard Spike chose for me resting on my top of my dresser. I haven't written that one yet. Absently I pick it up and turn it over. On the back is written "Matthew Macfadyen as Fitzwilliam Darcy." "Fitzwilliam," I blurt. "No, what's his first name?" she asks. "That is his first name.”