“Isabelle chewed thoughtfully on her straw. 'That new lead singer they have is hot. Is he single? I'd like to ridearound town like a bad, bad pony”

“Like God's own chocolate, I'd lick her shadow off a hot sidewalk”

“It’s good.’ She chirps the last bit as if that were all to say about a book: It’s good or it’s bad. I liked it or I didn’t. No discussions of the writing, the themes, the nuances, the structure. Just good or bad. Like a hot dog.”

“Nobody likes the man who brings bad news.”

“This book is gaudy like a gilded cauliflower which smells so bad after a good hot water soaking, like hot chocolate sweetened with sugar beet / incompatibles blended incongruously to no purpose.”

“Now that he wanted to feel like he was having a bad dream, he wasn't. He was having a bad reality, and that was something from which you could not wake.”

“Stick Boy liked Match Girl,
he liked her a lot.
He liked her cute figure,
he thought she was hot.”

“[People] would ask me, "what do you want to be when you're older?" and I'd be like, "a singer", and they'd be like, "what do you really want to be?" and I'd be like, "oh, I really want to be a singer."”

“Simon bristled. She wasn’t his Isabelle, not anymore. He wondered if she ever truly had been. Isabelle didn’t seem like the type of girl to belong to someone. It was one of the things he liked best about her.”

“Her eyes winded. "I'm becoming addicted to you?."
He raised an eyebrow. "You say it like it's a bad thing.”