“Marina sighs. "Love's a tidal wave," she says. "Because it sweeps you off your feet?" I ask. "No. Because it sucks you under and you drown.”

“Marina sighs. “Love is like a tidal wave,” she says. “Because it sweeps you off your feet?” I ask. “No, because it sucks you under and you drown.” “But sometimes,” I point out, “it’s the only thing that keeps you afloat.”

“Love's a tidal wave," she says."Because it sweeps you off your feet?" I ask. "No. Because it sucks you under and you drown.""But sometimes," I point out, "it's the only thing that keeps you afloat.”

“Love is a tidal wave--not because it sweeps you off your feet, but because it pulls you down and drowns you.”

“I sigh. “But if you’d talked to Jules—if she could hear you . . .” My voice trails off.“Then you wouldn’t feel quite so crazy?” Oliver asks gently. “Can’t you believe in me, if I believe in you?”

“Sometimes, when you don't ask questions, it's not because you are afraid that someone will lie to your face. It's because you're afraid they'll tell you the truth.”

“Imagine if you were the positive pole of a magnet, and you were told that under no circumstances were you allowed to touch that negative pole that was sucking you in like a black hole. Or if you crawled out of the desert and found a woman standing with a pitcher of ice water, but she held it out of your reach. Imagine jumping off a building, and then being told not to fall. That's what it feels like to want a drink.”