He says they're not his type, but I don't really get the concept of having a type. My type is girls. All of them. Why would I limit my dating pool?

— Nicola Yoon

He tastes like salted caramel and sunshine. Or what I think salted caramel and sunshine taste like. He tastes like nothing I've ever experienced, like hope and possibility and future

— Nicola Yoon

He thinks my hair smells like spring rain. I'm really trying to remain stoic and unaffected. I remind myself that I don't like poetic language. Furthermore, I don't like poetry. Furthermore, I don't even like people who like poetry. But I'm not dead inside either.

— Nicola Yoon

[His eyes are] Atlantic Ocean blue, just like he'd said. It's strange because of course I'd known that. But the difference between knowing it and seeing them in person is the difference between dreaming of flying and flight.

— Nicola Yoon

His words made me aware that the heart in my chest is a muscle like any other. It can hurt.

— Nicola Yoon

How can he not share his newfound joy with his fellow man? And it is joy. There’s a pure kind of joy in the certainty of belief. The certainty that your life has purpose and meaning.

— Nicola Yoon

How can you trust something that can end as suddenly as it begins?

— Nicola Yoon

However, if the long shot is your only shot, then you have to take it.

— Nicola Yoon

I almost wish I hadn't met him. How am I supposed to go back to my old life, my days stretching out before me with unending and brutal sameness? How am I supposed to go back to being The Girl Who Reads?

— Nicola Yoon

I could stay here forever interrupting our talking with kissing, interrupting our kissing with talking.

— Nicola Yoon