“...he's like our own personal Gandalf or Dumbledore or somebody cool like that...”

“He's like a God. You worship the gods, but you don't go out with them. You only like guys like that from a distance.”

“Look closer. The river's its own world of fast and slow, deep and shallow, bright and shadowed. If you look at it like that, like a landscape where the fish live, it'll be easier to catch one.”

“Well he should get over himself. He tried to get me burned at the stake in Brit History yesterday. Here I am minding my own business like a good little girl, and out of the blue Tucker raises his hand and accuses me of being a witch" "sounds like something Tucker would do" admits wendy."Everybody had to vote on it. I barely escaped with my nuns life. Obviously I'll have to return the favour.”

“You like me, Clara, he says. "I know you do.”

“Hey, you feel like driving today?" he asks. "I don't want to walk to the bus stop. It's too cold.""You feel like dying today?""Sure. I like risking my life. Keeps things in perspective.”

“Tuck," I breathe, and then he kisses me.I've been kissed before. But nothing like this. He kisses me with surprising tenderness, for all of his gusty talk. Still cupping my face, he gently brushes his lips against mine, slowly, like he's memorizing what I feel like. My eyes close. My head swims with his smell, grass and sunshine and musky cologne. He kisses me again, a litte more firmly, and then he pulls back to look down into my face.”