
He ran his finger along my jawline and down my neck. The wait will be fun, but it's not going to be easy.

Are you saying that you like me, Jules Marchenoir?"
"I am saying that I like you very much indeed, Ava Whitefoot.

Our lips brushed,and I felt like a chord had been struck inside me, and my body was humming with a pure musical note.

Still in one piece?" Vincent teased, pulling me close & planting a soft kiss on my lips. "After dirty-dancing with Jules, I'm not sure.

What's better, I thought, to be safe and suffer alone, or to risk pain and actually live?

I had feared that love would make me vulnerable. Instead I felt empowered.

As Jules kissed my cheeks he whispered, She has nothing on you, of course, Kates. It's just that you're so very ... taken.

He smelled like oak and grass and wood fires.He Smelled like memories. Like years and years of memories.

Kate, I honestly don't know how Vincent puts up with you. You are ... infuriating.

Vincent to Kate: The day I stop seeing you as one of the strongest people I know is the day I wake up human.

She is my inspiration. My muse. My obsession.

My mom said I was an escapist at heart ... that I preferred imaginary worlds to the real one

Well? What could I say?
I said, Yes

I spent the rest of the day in someone else's story. The rare moments that I put the book down, my own pain returned in burning stabs.

I've always felt that any establishment that doesn't welcome me with open arms doesn't deserve my patronage.

Sorry I'm not your boyfriend. And I mean that in all sorts of ways.

Well, spit on my empty grave
if it ain't the attack of the Disney princesses!

I'm not happy. Nor am I sad. I'm just...here.

Not that I don't think you're totally hot when you're dripping with sweat.

I was now in slasher-film mode.

Life is easier in black and white. It's the ambiguity of a world defined in grays that has stripped me of my confidence and left me powerless.

Ladies, it's almost midnight. And I, for one, hoped not to have to resort to kissing Gaspard when the clock strikes twelve.

I'm lying here in a tent, pretending to be asleep but actually fearing for my life as I watch a bunny murderer have a conversation with our campfire.

Better not to have loved at all, than to love and have lost.

Um, yeah. I guess lying around reading books all day doesn't do much for physical endurance.

A few Paris blocks away I led a completely normal life with my sister & grandparents. And here I was sword fighting with dead guys.

My home is not a place. It's not a fixed location on the map; not Paris or New York. It is with Ava. Wherever she is - that is where I belong.