So what's the point, then, if we can't be happy? Why are we doing any of this?""Oh, there's definitely happiness," Jack said, turning his back on the ocean and looking at her. "But it's just about moments, not ever-afters." He grinned. "Like when you're right in the middle of the ocean with your friends, with no one trying to kill you in any kind of horrifying way. You have to appreciate these moments when they happen, 'cause obviously we don't get many of them.

Once upon a time, Jack wouldn't have been caught dead in a princess rescue.

We read about you to be with you, to walk in someone else's shoes, to experience another life. Some of those lives are hard, and others are easy, but we're with you every step of the way. We read about people in impossible situations because we're dealing with horrible things ourselves, in our lives. And you going through your story helps us with ours, no matter how yours ends.

Owen is Owen. No one gets to tell him how to live his life. Not you, not me, and not some author nobody. Owen gets to choose how his life story goes, and no one, let alone his idiot fictional self, gets to take that away from him.

Listen, last time I talked to you three, you were all two oars short of having any oars, so I don't want to hear it.

Whaaaaaat is going on?" May whispered out of the corner of her mouth."I'm sort of comforted by the fact that I can't figure it out," Jack responded.

He realized that it wouldn’t be much longer before the trees picked themselves up and migrated to the warmer south, leaving their dead, leafless brothers behind.