"Sam laughed, a funny, self-deprecating laugh. "You did read a lot. And spent too much time just inside the kitchen window, where I couldn't see you very well.""And not enough time mostly naked in front of my bedroom window?"I teased. Sam turned bright red. "That,"he said, "is so not the point of this conversation."
"His lips tasted cool and sharp, peppermint, winter, but his hands, soft on the back of my neck, promised long days and summer and forever."
"right in this moment, I can´t even remember what unhappy feels like."
"I could still smell her on my fur. It clung to me, a memory of another world.I was drunk with it, with the scent of her. I'd got too close.The smell of summer on her skin, the half-recalled cadence of her voice, the sensation of her fingers on my fur. Every bit of me sang with the memory of her closeness.Too close.I couldn't stay away."
"As the hours crept by, the afternoon sunlight bleached all the books on the shelves to pale, gilded versions of themselves and warmed the paper and ink inside the covers so that the smell of unread words hung in the air."
"It is possible to be in love with you just because of who you are."