“Oliver clapped his hands together, grinning broadly. "Hallelujah. You have no idea how sick I am of high school. Watch out, Jackson High: This truant is about to become a dropout.”

“...Oh god. I'm one of those girls.""What girls?" he asked, perplexed."Those girls. The ones in all those books and TV shows. Some dumb high school girl falls in love with some supernatural guy, and he's all, 'Behold, I am five million years old!' and she's all, 'Oh my god, how can you ever love pathetic little me!' and he's like, 'Because of destiny!' or whatever. It's just so...ew. You know?”

“Are you seriously telling me the truth about all this?" I asked."I seriously am," he replied. "I was also serious about stealing a fry.”

“A minute or so passed by--not long, but long enough to make me wonder whether Oliver was setting up mood lighting or hiding dead bodies. Or if someone was up there waiting to stab me again. Or if someone was up there waiting to hand me a crown and tell me I was the long-lost princess of Genovia. Or if I'd tumble into a pit of lava, only to get saved at the last second by a flying carpet.”

“Nobody ever feels just one way about another person, Margo. We're so much more complicated than that. I can see a million things you want from me, just like the million things I want from you. Some of them are wonderful. Some are awful. Some contradict each other, and some don't make sense at all. But none of those things matter, not really. What matters is what you do about them.”

“Miami drivers have long ago take the simple chore of going from one place to another and turned it into a kind of high-speed, heavily armed game of high-stakes bumper cars.”

“I don't know if you have noticed this, but it is quite possible for two human beings to have a conversation in which one or both parties involved has absolutely no idea what they're talking about.”