“Q: How would you like your eggs in the morning?A: Unfertilized”

“No matter how much you consumed, you would not have your fill.”

“How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?”

“Words are like eggs dropped from great heights; you can no more call them back than ignore the mess they leave when they fall.”

“Remember when you were a little kid and you'd fall asleep in the car? And someone would carry you out and put you into bed, so that when you woke up in the morning, you knew automatically you were home again? That's what I think it's like to die.”

“She pictured how it would feel to trust your instincts in a strange land, to know the difference between where you had been and where you were going.”

“Because hate's just the flip side of love. Like heads and tails on a dime. If you don't know what it feels like to love someone, how would you know what hate is? One can't exist without the other.”