“I hated Pinocchio. I think I was the only one in the class who hated him. Pinocchio was alive, but that was not enough for him. He could walk and talk and touch things in the real world, but he spent the whole book wanting more.Pinocchio didn’t know how lucky he was.”

“I hated that I let him touch my sweat, that he knew how I kissed. I wanted to collect my things from him, but the things were only moments.”

“I do think he hated him as one man will hate another who draws off the affection of a beloved.”

“I didn't want him to think I was weak, but he was the only person in the whole world who had any idea of the real predicament I was in, and that made him, at the moment, my best friend, even though he was about as comforting as a catcus.”

“I don’t want to love him—this would be so much simpler if I didn’t. But I do.He’s funny, and passionate, and strong, and he believes in me more than I even believe in myself. When he looks at me, I feel like I could take on the whole world and come out standing tall. I like myself better when I’m with him, because of how he sees me. He makes me feel beautiful and powerful, like I’m the most important thing in the world, and I don’t know how to walk away from that. I don’t know how to walk away from him.”

“The more he smiled, the more I wanted to hate him, and yet it was the very thing that made hating him impossible.”