“Sometimes things seem so unbearable in the middle of the night, don't they? In the middle of the night, we're all such children.”

“People, you'll find, aren't usually all good or bad. Sometimes they're just a little bit good and a whole lot bad. And sometimes they're mostly good with a dash of bad. And most of us, well, we fall in the middle somewhere.”

“Win walked over to me. He held out his palm. In the middle of it was a single black sequin from the dress Scarlet had lent me. "You lost this," he said.I giggled, slightly embarrassed to be leaving bits of myself behind. "I'm shedding.”

“You know this girl.Her hair is neither long nor short nor light nor dark. She parts it precisely in the middle.She sits precisely in the middle of the classroom, and when she used to ride the school bus, she sat precisely in the middle of that, too.She joins clubs, but is never the president of them. Sometimes she is the secretary; usually, just a member. When asked, she has been known to paints sets for the school play.She always has a date to the dance, but is never anyone’s first choice. In point of fact, she’s nobody’s first choice for anything. Her best friend became her best friend when another girl moved away.She has a group of girls she eats lunch with every day, but God, how they bore her. Sometimes, when she can’t stand it anymore, she eats in the library instead. Truth be told, she prefers books to people, and the librarian always seems happy to see her.She knows there are other people who have it worse—she isn’t poor or ugly or friendless or teased. Of course, she’s also aware that the reason no one teases is because no one ever notices her.This isn’t to say she doesn’t have qualities.She is pretty, maybe, if anyone would bother to look. And she gets good enough grades. And she doesn’t drink and drive. And she says NO to drugs. And she is always where she says she will be. And she calls when she’s going to be late. And she feels a little, just a little, dead inside.She thinks, You think you know me, but you don’t.She thinks, None of you has any idea about all the things in my heart.She thinks, None of you has any idea how really and truly beautiful I am.She thinks, See me. See me. See me.Sometimes she thinks she will scream.Sometimes she imagines sticking her head in an oven.But she doesn’t.She just writes it all down in her journal and waits.She is waiting for someone to see.”

“You'd probably marry me just to annoy your father."He grinned. "Well, that would certainly be a bonus.""Why don't you like him?" I asked. "He seems all right.""In five-minute doses," Win muttered.”

“It's like when you take a trip with someone you don't know very well. Sometimes, you can get very close very quickly, but then after the trip is over, you realize all that was a false sort of closeness. An intimacy based on the trip more than the travelers.”

“Win interrupted me. "Stop," he said. "I love you, too." He paused. "You underestimate me, Annie. I'm not blind to your faults. You keep too many secrets, for one. You lie sometimes. You have trouble saying the things in your heart. You have an awful temper. You hold a grudge. And I'm not saying this one is your fault, but people who know you have a disturbing tendency to end up with bullets in them. You don't have faith in anyone, including me. You think I'm an idiot sometimes. Don't deny it--I can tell. And maybe I was an idiot a year ago, but a lot has happened since then. I'm different, Anya. You used to say I didn't know what love was. But I think I learned what it is. I learned it when I thought I had lost you over the summer. And I learned it when my leg ached something awful. And I learned it when you were gone and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again. And I learned it every night when I'd pray that you were safe even if I never got to see you again. I don't want to marry you. I'm just happy to be near you for a while, and for as long as you'll let me be. Because there's never been anyone else for me but you. There will never be anyone else for me but you. I know this. I do. Annie, my Annie, don't cry..." (Was I crying? Yes, I suppose I was. But I was still so awfully tired. You can't possibly hold this against me.)"I know that loving you is going to be hard, Annie. But I love you, come what may.”