“What's your name?""Emma Gould," she said. "What's yours?""Wanted.""By all the girls or just the law?”

“How old are you?" said the girl. "What are you doing here? Do you live here? What's your name?" "I don't know," said Bod. "You don't know your name?" said the girl. "Course you do. Everybody knows their own name. Fibber." "I know my name," said Bod. "And I know what I'm doing here. But I don't know the other things you said.”

“Name me. Gaze into my eyes, study my smile and dimples and tell me what you see. I look like an Emma. I look like an Amy. I look like a Katherine. I look like a Kathryn. I look like your best friend's sister, your sister's best friend. Introduce me. Yell for me. Let me run away and call me back. Run your fingers through my hair and whisper my name. Call me whatever you want; it's just a name, after all.”

“We are what we choose to be, girl,' she said. 'Let others determine your worth, and you've already lost, because no one wants people worth more than themselves.”

“No matter what your reality looks like, you're the girl I'm in love with today, and the same girl I'll be in love with tomorrow and all the days after that. Not just because of who you are, but because of who you were.It's all part of your story, Em. And I want to be a part of your story, too.”

“What's your name?""Bond. James Bond. What's yours?"She reflected "Rider.""What Rider?""Honeychile."Bond smiled.”