“There really isn't a good way to tell a relative stranger that you think dead people are trying to tell you something. It's personal information. It's like telling someone you just met that you have a yeast infection. It might be true, but it's not the kind of thing people want to know about you. Plus, you know that every time they see you after that it will be the first thing they think about: There she is, the girl with the yeast infection/ghost problem.”

“Personally, I felt pretty safe. Librarians are like priests. You can tell them you want information on just about any subject and they never look at you weird. It's like a rule or something. I figured even in a small town like this, my question wouldn't be the strangest one the librarian had heard. I didn't know if librarians had any sort of official privacy code, but I was counting on confidence. They're not big talkers. It comes from being forced to be quiet all the time.”

“Tell me the truth. When you were a kid, did you always color inside the lines?”"Coloring in the lines is the whole point. That’s why they have lines,” I said.“That’s where you’re wrong. The lines are there just to hold you in. Like a prison. Think what you might have created if there hadn’t been any lines.”

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that if you do something embarrassing like fall down the stairs in front of a group of people, you are required to act like you are fine, even if you aren't. Your arm could have a bone jutting out, and you would still try to laugh it off as if everything were hunky dory. This compound fracture? It's nothing! I like to let my bones out of my body once in a while for fresh air. It's good for them.”

“You know it's absolutely fine for people to disagree, to be mad at each other.”

“Besides, I thought it was kind of cool that you noticed I have good dexterity." he waved his fingers in front of my face. "I like the idea of you thinking about what my hands can do." He winked before turning to leave. I flushed even redder. "I wasn't thinking about your hands," I called after him."Sure you weren't.""I wasn't. I was trying to be nice."Drew turned around to face me, leaning against the doorjamb. "Admit it. you're thinking about it now." He saluted and left.I kicked the cart Darn it. Now I was thinking about it.”

“Do you want to be with someone who loves you for something that isn’t really you?- Jane”