Love is the strangest, most illogical thing in the world.

He looks at her and smiles. "You're sort of dangerous, you know?" She stares at him. "Me?" "Yeah," he says sitting back. "I'm way too honest with you.

Is it possible not to ever know your type-not to even know you have a type-until quite suddenly you do?

People who meet in airports are seventy-two percent more likely to fall for each other than people who meet anywhere else.

For starters, I don't even know what my dreams are. All I know is that I feel... restless. And I'd love to do something different, you know? Something new.

It's not supposed to reflect reality...Reality is all well and good. But sometimes you just want to pretend the world is a better place than it actually is. That great and wonderful things can happen. That love triumphs over everything.

You just like him because he's cute...But he has the personality of a croissant.

They were just so different, and she kept wondering if he'd realize this was a mistake at some point; if, once she stopped being the novelty, the random American, he would recognize who she really was -- a nerdy bookworm, a happy loner -- and move on.

It took a moment to right himself, and he pulled his shoulders back as he regained his equilibrium. He didn't want to be half asleep the first time he kissed Ellie. For that, he wanted to be wide awake.