“I was in love with her, even though I didn't know her. Kind of like love before first sight”

“Kind of like love before first sight.”and“Butterflies in your stomach. That was such a crappy metaphor. More like killer bees.”

“Lincoln?” she asked.“Yes?”“Do you believe in love at first sight?”He made himself look at her face, at her wide-open eyes and earnest forehead. At her unbearably sweet mouth.“I don’t know,” he said. “Do you believe in love before that?”Her breath caught in her throat like a sore hiccup.And then it was too much to keep trying not to kiss her.”

“I think I fell in love with her, a little bit. Isn't that dumb? But it was like I knew her. Like she was my oldest, dearest friend. The kind of person you can tell anything to, no matter how bad, and they'll still love you, because they know you. I wanted to go with her. I wanted her to notice me. And then she stopped walking. Under the moon, she stopped. And looked at us. She looked at me. Maybe she was trying to tell me something; I don't know. She probably didn't even know I was there. But I'll always love her. All my life.”

“You know how they say you have to first love yourself before you love another? I did. I didn't like it. I'm WAY too high maintenance.”

“And I didn't know I loved her till I'd dreamt of her. I didn't know it was the real thing until an illusion had signalled it.”