“That's the thing about flying: You could talk to someone for hours and never even know his name, share your deepest secrets and then never see them again.”

“Beside her, Oliver is craning his neck to read the signs for customs, already thinking about the next thing, already moving on. Because that's what you do in planes. You share an armrest with someone for a few hours. You exchange stories about your life, an amusing anecdote or two, maybe even a joke. You comment on the weather and remark about the terrible food. And then you say goodbye.”

“It seemed to Ellie that you could tell a lot about someone by the way they carried a secret—by how safe they kept it, how soon they told, the way they acted when they were trying to keep it from spilling out.”

“it's like one of your maps. There's never just one way to get somewhere right? There are a bunch of different possibilities. Some of them take you where you want to go, some bring you home, and others go somewhere else entirely. You can be really certain about really uncertain things.”

“It wasn't that we forgot. But things like that sometimes get stored away, and there never seems to be a good time to dig them up again. It hurts a lot less to keep them buried. That doesn't make it right, but it's just the way it is.”

“Did you know that people who meet at least three different times within twenty-four hour period are ninety-eight percent more likely to meet again?”

“Is it possible not to ever know your type-not to even know you have a type-until quite suddenly you do?”