“Just because of that one disastrous blind date she had last year, where the guy turned out to be fifty-nine, not thirty-nine (He claimed it was a typo. Yeah, I’m sure his finger just happened to slip two spaces to the left).”

“It doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn't have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn't have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date.It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit.It just has to be.”

“I'm twenty-nine, yes really, I'm from Aspen, Colorado, I'm six feet one, yes really, I've been at Quantico two years, yes I date guys, no I dress like this just because I like it, no I'm not married, no I don't currently have a boyfriend, and no I don't want to have dinner with you tonight.”

“Love doesn’t have to be on Valentine’s Day. It doesn’t have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn’t have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn’t have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third day.It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirt.It just has to be.”

“I’ve got this perception of Beethoven where he’s just, like, really pissed all the time. Yeah, ol’ Ludwig, he had a lot to pound on the piano bitterly about. I’m Germannnn! I’m deaffff! I’m bliiiind! My name is Ludwigggg! Was he blind? I’m pretty sure. Or, wait, maybe that was Helen Keller. Was he even German? Was she German? Is Ludwig a name? I’m starting to worry I’m just making shit up.”

“He swore to kill her. She could still see his face when he said it. He was nineteen then. He'd be thirty-nine when released. That was still years away, if there was no early parole. She didn't understand why this had started now, only three years after she was hidden from everyone.”