Tell me I don't know you, Sam thought. Tell me I don't know you when I could draw both sides of this hand, your hand, from memory. - Gabrielle Zevin

She was pretty and smart, which makes her death a tragedy. She was poor and black, which means people say they saw it coming.

But the best parts of him were in his books. I suppose I could always read those if I missed him too much. I haven't wanted to read one yet, though.

Every time I run into you for the rest of our lives, I'll ask you to make a game with me. There's some groove in my brain that insists it is a good idea."
"Isn't that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over but expecting a different result."
"That's a game character's life, too," Sam said. "The world of infinite restarts. Start again at the beginning, this time you might win. And it's not as if all our results were bad. I love the things we made. We were a great team."
Sam offered Sadie his hand, and she shook it. She pulled him into her, and she kissed Sam on the cheek. "I love you, Sadie," Sam said.
"I know, Sam. I love you, too.