“Do not find peace. Find passion.”

“Your level of neuroses will only find love in a made-for-TV movie.”

“I find it hilarious that whenever I light up, Americans look at me like I'm going to urinate on their children.”

“Dead end after dead end. Did you find the answers you were looking for in that book?”“I haven’t had a chance to read it yet,” I said nonchalantly.A half-smile tugged at Noah’s mouth. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”I lifted my chin. “No.”“What page?”“I didn’t fall asleep.”“What page?”Busted. “Six,”

“What do I sound like?" I asked, more breathily than I intended. God, so predictable.He considered his answer for a moment before he gave it. "Dissonant," he said finally."Meaning?"Another long pause. "Unstable."Hmm.He shook his head. "Not the way you're thinking," he said, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "In music, consonant chords are points of arrival. Rest. There's no tension," he tried to explain. "Most pop music hooks are consonant, which is why most people like them. They're catchy but interchangeable. Boring. Dissonant intervals, however, are full of tension," he said, holding my gaze. "You can't predict which way they're going to go. It makes limited people uncomfortable - frustrated, because they don't understand the point, and people hate what they don't understand. But the ones who get it," he said, lifting a hand to my face, "find it fascinating. Beautiful." He traced the shape of my mouth with his thumb. "Like you.”

“It doesn’t matter what we are. It matters what we do.”

“That mouth. Smoking was a bad habit, yes. But he looked so good doing it.”