“If I am dead, well, then there's somethin' 'bout you, Eleanor, that's makin' me feel like I'm still alive.”

“If I have the strength to sit here for months,” he murmured, almost painfully. “Falling more and more hopelessly in love with you every single day, while you’re still madly in love with a ghost, then you can have that same kind of strength to move on from this.”

“I’ll always be broken,” I went on. “Because when I came here, no one fixed me. It’s not that they didn’t care to fix me. These crazy, wonderful people I met at Craneville didn’t fix me because they didn’t think I needed to be fixed. And it wasn’t because they were ‘crazy’…it was because they were the only people who knew that I could only face the world out there again as someone different. As someone who wasn’t perfect, who wasn’t normal, who didn’t have all the answers…someone who was somehow ‘fixed’ by being broken.”

“That’s what real love looks like—when your companion believes in you when no one else does. True love can really be that little red balloon that lifts you up through life’s storm.”

“Tha’ girl I saw every night in tha’ dream,” he whispered. “Tha’ girl was you.”

“It was 12:08 a.m. I had just six minutes to get to the top of the lighthouse. I took off running up the rocks, trying to go as fast as I could while maintaining some sort of balance. When I got up to the lighthouse door, a loud explosion echoed through the sky behind me and I spun around. I shielded my eyes with my hand from the cold rain, which was now coming down harder than ever, as I looked at the interruption into the otherwise quiet Scottish night. Giant flames rose up into the air on the beach below the manor and two long lines of fire burst horizontally across the sky. The world was on fire.”

“He’s nice, easy on the eyes. Plus, he’s British, which means he’s got manners and knows how to dance like Mr. Darcy, right?”