I wanted weird, but maybe it's too weird?It doesn't matter. I'm with you. I'm happy to be anywhere with you.
I love Paris, I say.And I'm sure it loves you back.
I don't know. No one has ever so completely confounded me the way you do.
Emily Zola.That's only the second woman I've seen down here. What's up with that?But before St. Clair can answer, the grating voice says, It's . We turn around to find a smug guy in a Euro Disney swea...
Color me intrigued, Martin.
But that's not quite right either.I miss Paris, but it's not home. It's more like... I miss this. This warmth over the telephone. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? Bridgette used...
But isn't it better to be honest about these things before someone else can use them against you? Before someone else can break your heart? Isn't it better to break it yourself?
Artists are inspired by blank canvases.
´´You know what's the strangest thing about tonight? Tonight, being an astoundingly strange night?´´´´What's that?´´´´That you still don't realize I'm willing to do anything, anything-he gestured in a...
They didn’t talk much, but their silence was companionable.
The directness of her question throws me. I don't know. Sometimes I think there are only so many opportunities...to get together with someone. And we've both screwed up so many times- my voice grows q...
Oh my. He's English.Er. Does Mer live here?Seriously, I dont know any American girl who can resist an English accent.
Josh: Don't do this to us. I think you're afraid. I don't know why - I don't know what I could've said or done to make you distrust me - but for once in your life, Isla, take a risk. Take a fucking ri...
It's a physical sickness. Étienne. How much I love him. I love Étienne. I love that the accent over his first name is called an acute accent, and that he has a cute accent.
It was sad that people only got along when everybody was unhappy.
I told him your loins were clearly burning, and he should man up and make a move.You did not!I did. And if he doesn't, then I suggest you jump bones....I finally register what he's wearing. It's a ha...
I keep my eyes on his bedspread—blue-and-white plaid, very male—and try to remember how Isla-of-the-past would have fainted if she could see Isla-of-the-present.
He takes my hands into his.Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so.
He couldn’t be dead, because he was still so alive in her mind.
For the two of us, home isn't a place.It's a person.And we're finally home.