“It was a dark and stormy night... Yes it was…. Who’s telling the story? Girl who was unconscious for most of it or the guy who saved the day? …Well, if you’d be so kind, I will tell you exactly how I did it. Capiche? …Good.”

“I have something to tell you.""How, you have something to tell me?""You have understood me exactly.""Well, I am listening.""Listening? Then, you wish me to tell you?""Yes, that is it. I am listening, and therefore I wish you to tell me.""Shall I tell you now?""No.”

“It didn't matter if i was the kind of girl who had sex, or the kind of girl who had her portrait on on a wall in the library, or the kind of girl who who got into the best college, or the kind of girl who didn't tell her parents everything, or the kind of girl who teachers loved. I just needed to be okay with all the kinds of girl I was.”

“I mean, like most guys, you carry around this girl in your head, who is exactly who you want her to be. The person you think you will love the most. And every girl you are with gets measured against this girl in your head.”

“I had a stupid crush on a guy who barely tolerated me most of the time. Was that the kind of girl I was? Pick the jerk over the nice guy?”

“I am not the kind of girl who trusts a man to tell her everything she needs to know in his own due time, so I did some research on my sire. You can take the girl out of the library, but you can't take the neurotic, compulsively curious librarian out of the girl.”