“His warmth enveloped me until I empathized with the glove, knowing I had also just found my way home again after being lost in a cold, miserable winter.”

“Don’t be the glove in the snow. Fight for what you know is right. Be the coat. You’re not lost and alone on this.”

“Well…there’s only one glove. Right away, I wonder, where’s the other glove? How did it become separated from its mate? Does it feel lost and confused without its other half? It looks lonely. Cold. Like an outsider that has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. And the stark contrast of the white snow against the bright colors of the glove makes the lines crisp and clear. It makes that feeling of alienated loneliness crisp and clear. The purity of the snow gives the purity of the glove’s solitude a stronger effect.”

“I’ve found the things I’ve regretted most in my life are the things I wanted to do but never had the courage to try. And I’m beginning to think I don’t want you to become one of my what-if-I’d-only-tried-it regrets.”

“Hey, where are you going?" His voice, confused yet curious, called after me. "Hey. Why didn't your mother name you Maybe, or We'll see, or What's-Your-Number? That way, we could call our first born Absolutely.”

“I'm never one, distinct color but a dichotomy of dark and bright. The hues follow me, reflecting my mood, displaying every tone and shade I feel. I can breathe in red and exhale blue, or swim in green and dry as a rainbow. It all depends on how I choose to react to every shadow and light beam headed my way.”

“Ryder: “Well, you’re not the type I want to be my first either.”Grace:“What?” Ryder: “You’re the type I want to be my last. You know...the settle down and marry sort. If you’re my first, then I won’t get to—I don’t know—sow any wild oats or anything.”