“The way to goodness," Borden had said, "is one of sacrifice. He who sacrifices will have it a hundred times returned.”

“One million fifty-one thousand and two hundred minutes That's approximatley how many minutes I've loved youIt's how many times i've thought about youHow many minutes i've worried about youHow many minutes i've thanked God for youHow many minutes i've thanked every deity in the universe for you.One millionFifty-one ThousandAndTwoHundredMinutesOne million fifty-one thousand amd two hundred times.It's how many times you've made me smile.How many times you've made me dream,How many times you've made me believe,How many times you've made me discover,How many times you've made me adore,How many times you've made me cheris, My life.....And exactlly one million fifty-one thousand and two hundred minutes from now, i am going to propose to you, and ask that you share all the rest of the minutesOf your life, with me.”

“Trying," he said at last, "is good. It always is. But failing? Everyone fails, one time or another. It's how you deal with failure that counts, in the end. It's the successes that you're known for-but it's the failures make you what you are.”

“We should always have three friends in our lives-one who walks ahead who we look up to and follow; one who walks beside us, who is with us every step of our journey; and then, one who we reach back for and bring along after we've cleared the way.”

“You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you’re attracted to guys?” I shake my head. “Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.” He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”

“Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.” He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”

“Do you know what it is?' [Toby] said thoughtfully. 'It's that they haven't had anything really awful happen to them. No wonder they seem so superficial and unfeeling.' It was certainly an interesting theory, ... [but] surely one didn't need to have suffered in order to possess empathy for those who had? All it required was a bit of imagination and a well-stocked library.”