Lobster

“I'm such an incredibly, stupidly sensitive person that everything that happens to me, I experience it really intensely. I feel everything very deeply. And when you feel things deeply and you think about things a lot and you think about how you feel, you learn a lot about yourself. And when you know yourself, you know life.”
― Fiona Apple

“She was looking at him steadily; he however, found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.

Nice view, he said feebly, pointing toward with window.

She ignored this. He could not blame her.

I couldn't think what to get you, she said.

You didn't have to get me anything.

She disregarded this too.

I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you.

He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, she was rarely weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brothers must have toughened her up.

She took a step closer to him.

So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some Veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing.

I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest.

There's the silver lining I've been looking for, she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhiskey; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair-

The door banged open behind them and they jumped apart.

Oh, said Ron pointedly. Sorry.

Ron! Hermione was just behind him, slight out of breath. There was a strained silence, then Ginny had said in a flat little voice,

Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry.

Ron's ears were scarlet; Hermione looked nervous. Harry wanted to slam the door in their faces, but it felt as though a cold draft had entered the room when the door opened, and his shining moment had popped like a soap bubble. All the reasons for ending his relationship with Ginny, for staying well away from her, seemed to have slunk inside the room with Ron, and all happy forgetfulness was gone.

He looked at Ginny, wanting to say something, though he hardly knew what, but she had turned her back on him. He thought that she might have succumbed, for once, to tears. He could not do anything to comfort her in front of Ron.

I'll see you later, he said, and followed the other two out of the bedroom.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

“I know these will all be stories some day, and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody’s mom or dad. But right now, these moments are not stories. This is happening. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive. And you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And you’re listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

“Were you a transfer too?”
“I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions,” I say. “Now I’ve got Stiffs, too?”
As it was with Christina before, my sharpness is intended to slam doors before they open too much. But Tris’s mouth twists like she tastes something sour, and she says, “It must be because you’re so approachable. You know. Like a bed of nails.”
Her face flushes as I stare at her, but she doesn’t look away. Something about her seems familiar to me, though I swear I would remember if I had ever met such a sharp Abnegation girl, even for just a second.
“Careful, Tris,” I say. Careful what you say to me, is what I mean, careful what you say to anyone, in this faction that values all the wrong things, that doesn’t understand that when you come from Abnegation, standing up for yourself, even in small moments, is the height of bravery.
As I say her name, I realize how I know her. She’s Andrew Prior’s daughter. Beatrice. Tris.”
― Veronica Roth, Four: A Divergent Story Collection