There is no better taste than this: someone else's laughter in your mouth.

I wish you could be kissed, Jane,' he said. 'Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.' He flailed an arm toward the stars.

Please kiss that girl a million times.

It was her eyes and my eyes and I felt a surging sensation of rightness, of saying the right thing at the right time to the right person.

After everything I'd lived through, I was not going to be reduced to a one-sentence definition.

There were so many different versions of him. It was countless versions of a song, and they were all original, and they were all true, and they were all right. It should have been impossible. Was I supposed to love them all?

I hated this. I hated knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing that they weren't the same thing.

I wish you could be kissed, Jane,” he said. “Because I would beg just one off you. Under all this.” He flailed an arm toward the stars.

Blue Sargent had forgotten how many times she’d been told that she would kill her true love.