“Did you ever really love her? Not really no. But me? Yes. Even though I have no pizzazz?”

“CUSTOMER: Hi, I just wanted to ask: did Anne Frank ever write a sequel?BOOKSELLER: ........CUSTOMER: I really enjoyed her first book.BOOKSELLER: Her diary?CUSTOMER: Yes, the diary.BOOKSELLER: Her diary wasn’t fictional.CUSTOMER: Really?BOOKSELLER: Yes... She really dies at the end – that’s why the diary finishes. She was taken to a concentration camp.CUSTOMER: Oh... that’s terrible.BOOKSELLER: Yes, it was awful -CUSTOMER: I mean, it’s such a shame, you know? She was such a good writer.”

“Logan?''Yes?' I pulled my clothes back on even though the fabric stuck to my wounds. So much for trying to keep them clean.'How did you know it wasn’t really me?''Are you kidding? Your eyeballs could be on fire and you wouldn’t bat your lashes at me like that.”

“Being in love is…anxious,” he said. “Wanting to please, worrying that she will see me as I really am. But wanting to be known. That is…you’re naked, moaning in the dark, no dignity at all…I wanted her to see me and to love me even though she knew everything I am, and I knew her”

“But I hadn't known what love was. And I wondered how you could ever be sure, when you thought you loved someone, if you really did.”

“She did not believe he could have really gone, because for her, to leave the person you loved was impossible.”