"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."
"You're beautiful and sad,"I said finally, not looking at him when I did. "Just like your eyes. You're like a song that I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again."For a long moment there was only the whirring sound of the tires on the road, and then Sam said softly, "Thank you."
"And then I opened my eyes and it was just Grace and me - nothing anywhere but Grace and me - she pressing her lips together as though she were keeping my kiss inside her, and me, holding this moment that was as fragile as a bird in my hands."
"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."
"right in this moment, I can´t even remember what unhappy feels like."