Quotes from Jenny Han

Peter Kavinsky's such a cliché. He's like a cardboard cut-out of a 'cool guy' in a movie about high school.

Las cosas están terminando, pero también apenas empiezan.

As I walked away, I heard the girl ask, "Is she your girlfriend?" I whirled around, and we both said "No!" at the same time.

She beams at me. "See? There's a lot to be excited about. And don't forget the Cheese Shop." The

The Cheese Shop is a specialty food store right by campus, and they sell cheese, obviously, but also fancy jams and bread and wine and gourmet pastas. They make really great roast beef sandwiches with a house dressing—a mayonnaisey mustard that I have tried to duplicate at home, but nothing tastes as good as in the shop, on their fresh bread.

I wonder what it's like to have that much power over a boy. I don't think I'd want it; it's a lot of responsibility to hold a person's heart in your hands.

But I also just wish I could have a hug from my mom on my graduation day.

Dear Margot, You say that we had to break up because you don't want to go to college with a boyfriend, and you want your freedom, and you don't want to be held back. But you know and I know that's not the real reason You broke up with me because we had sex anf you were scared of getting close to me. Josh

Y quién sabe medir el atractivo de una persona? Algunas veces las personas son un millón de veces más atractivas para ti en tu mente. Es como si tú los vieras por un lente especial, pero quizá es así como tu realmente los ves.

But I don't think people change at the core. They are who they are.

The most believable lies are the ones that are at least a bit true.

Love. He said "love." I feel dizzy. I am a girl who is loved, by a boy, and not just her sisters and father and dog.

I like to watch Peter when he doesn't know I'm looking. I like to admire the straight line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. There's an openness to his face, an innocence--a certain kind of niceness. It's the niceness that touches my heart the most.

For me there was—is—nothing better than walking on the beach late at night. It feels like you could walk forever, like the whole night is yours and so is the ocean. When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.

Do you know what it's like to like someone so much you can't stand it and know that they'll never feel the same way? Probably not.

Kitty used to hoard raisins; she was probably the most regular kid in kindergarten.

Is this how it goes? You fall in love, and nothing seems truly scary anymore, and life is one big possibility

I look at Peter's profile out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes I still can't believe he's mine. The handsomest boy of all the handsome boys is mine, all mine. "What?" he says. "Nothing," I say.

It was a total catch-22, like a contradiction in terms.

Whoever you should choose to partake in that enjoyment, that is your choice, and choose wisely.

You're not my first,' Peter says. "But you are the most special to me, because you're the girl I love, Lara Jean." Love. He said "love". I feel dizzy. I am a girl who is loved, by a boy, and not just her sisters and father and dog. A boy with beautiful eyebrows

Even now, all these years later, I still read them—Conrad's letters to me when I was studying abroad in Spain. Just every once in a while, I pull them all out and sit down and read each one. I know them all by heart, but they still touch me, they still make me feel it all over again.… To think that once we were both very young, and very far apart, and still finding our way back to each other.

You can come with me to the McGregor Room," I say. "But you have to promise to be quiet." Affectionately Peter says, "Lara Jean, only you would look forward to hanging out in a library.

I read his texts over and over. They're spaced minutes apart, so I know he must be fretting over whether I'm mad or not. I don't want to be mad. I just want things to go back to how they were before.