If there's a place you should be able to put yourself first, it's in your own sexual fantasies.

— Alyssa Brugman

If you're a boy, any display of sensitivity is gay. Compassion is gay. Crying is super gay. Reading is usually gay. Certain songs and types of music are gay. 'Nola Gay' would certainly be thought gay. Love songs are gay. Love itself is incredibly gay, as are any other heartfelt emotions. Singing is gay, but chanting is not gay. Wanking contests are not gay. Neither is all-male cuddling during specially designated periods in football matches, or communal bathing thereafter. (I didn't invent the rules of gay - I'm just telling you what they are.)

— Gavin Extence

I guess that the goddess Venus wasn’t on my side with this fine specimen of the male gender!

— Adele Rose

I keep having the urge to cross my hands over my chest, to cover up my breasts, to hide. I'm suddenly aware of how pale I look in the sunshine, and how many moles I have spotting up and down my chest, and I just know he's looking at me thinking I'm wrong or deformed. But the breathes, 'Beautiful' and when his eyes meet mine I know that he really, truly means it.

— Lauren Oliver

I know the rules. I've been living here longer than you have." He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. "Hardly."" Born and raised. You're a transplant." I nudge him again, a little harder, and he laughs and tries to catch hold of my arm. I squirm away, giggling, and he stretches out to tickle my stomach. "Country bumpkin!" I squeal, as he grabs out and wrestles me back onto the blanket, laughing." City slicker," he says, rolling over on top of me, and then kisses me. Everything dissolves: heat, explosions of color, floating.

— Lauren Oliver

I'm never going to be happy, but I could get close now, I think. I could be almost normal. Furthermore, I could have a friend.

— Alyssa Brugman

Ital™s tough, but if you want to survive, sometimes you have to do the seemingly impossible.

— Adele Rose

It's the rule of the wilds. You must be bigger, and stronger, and tougher. A coldness radiates through me, a solid wall that is growing, piece by piece, in my chest. He doesn't love me. He never loved me. It was all a lie." The old Lena is dead." I say, and then push past him. Each step is more difficult than the last; the heaviness fills me and turns my limbs to stone. You must hurt or be hurt.

— Lauren Oliver

It’s tough, but if you want to survive, sometimes you have to do the seemingly impossible.

— Adele Rose

I was always on my odd knock.

— Anthony Burgess