“But you're like me,” he says. “An outsider. Different. A freak. We're both weird, which is why we get along.”

“we're all freaks sometimes, Melody," he replied. "You're just… well, better at it than most.”

“You're making me nervous by being so weird.
But your weirdness is what I like about you.”

“He looks at me in such a way that I know for sure-he's never looked at another girl quite like this.
And the I'm in his arms, and we're hugging and kissing, and we're both shaking, because we both know-this is the night we become real.”

“It was so weird, because usually I was totally nervous talking to guys. But Eli was different. He made me want to say more, not less. Which was maybe not a good thing.”

“We're so different. You're an intellectual. I'm an idiot."
"Don't say that," I yelled. "You're not an idiot, you stupid idiot.”

“We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.”

“Every time I mention her, Magnus says, "Are you two getting along?" in raised, hopeful tones, like we're endangered pandas who need to make a baby.”

“The best thing about writing fiction is that moment where the story catches fire and comes to life on the page, and suddenly it all makes sense and you know what it's about and why you're doing it and what these people are saying and doing, and you get to feel like both the creator and the audience. Everything is suddenly both obvious and surprising ("but of course that's why he was doing that, and that means that…") and it's magic and wonderful and strange.”

“What are you, in love with her?" Travis says. "You're staring like an idiot."
The weird thing is, I think I am.”