“A guy who is crazily, madly in love with you. A guy who sees how incredible and amazing you are, even though you’re not the cheerleader or even close to the prettiest girl in the school. A guy who thinks you’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

“He seems like a good guy but you need to find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot and who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Who wants to show off how pretty you look even in sweats...Who thinks you’re just as pretty without make-up and reminds you how lucky he is to have you. The one that says ‘that’s her.”

“Which one are you?" I whispered. "What?" he asked. "Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?" His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it." There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".”

“You’re a guy. It’s typical for your sex to want to conquer every eligible girl you see.”

“Even if you don't acknowledge it, people die, and guys sleep with girls. That's just how it is.”

“So, for her, I'll try. I'll trust. I'll ... open myself. I'll ... be this guy I've never been before and don't even known how to be—this goofy "in love" guy, this guy who takes care of his woman, this guy who gives more than he takes.”