I didn't want to choose one world. I wanted to be part of both. I didn't want to see only one side of the sky. I wanted to see it all.

The beginning of a book is always the hardest part for me. I'm a Chapter 3 kind of writer, which means I naturally start at Chapter 3.

I watched the way they looked at each other. Any idiot could see they were in love, even if they were the only two idiots who couldn't.

There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt—it meant something.

Wait, I got it. We, uh, won the battle and lost the war, or was it the other way around? 'Cause around here, it's hard to tell sometimes.

It almost felt like she was sucking it all out of me, like she sucked on that sticky red lollipop, the one she kept licking as she drove.

Until then, you can do what everyone else your age does. Listen to music. Watch the television. Just keep your nose away from those books.

I care. They bother me. And that's why I'm stupid. That makes me exponentially more stupid than stupid. I'm stupid to the power of stupid.

You watch yourself. One day you're going to pick a hole in the sky and the universe is gonna fall right through. Then we'll all be in a fix

I wouldn't know where to start." "He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to." "Thoreau?" "Harry Emerson Fosdick.

It smelled like aging wood and creosote, plastic book covers, and old paper. Old paper, which my mom used to say was the smell of time itself.

I wish I could print up a sign and tape it on my forehead. I OFFICIALLY DO NOT WANT TO KISS ETHAN WATE. NOW PLEASE LET ME BE FRIENDS WITH HIM.

I'm afraid. I know L. I don't want you to get hurt. I won't. What if you do. I'll wait for you. Even if I'm dark? Even if you're very very dark.

Laws of physics laws of love of time and space and the (in)between place (in)between you and me and where we are lost and looking looking and lost

Arelia looked up at Macon. "It's not the house that protects her. It's the boy. I've never seen anything like it. No Caster can come between them.

It was pretty obvious Lena wanted to be asked. Another mysterious thing about girls- they want to be asked to stuff even if they don't want to go.

Are you insinuatin' that my daughter is a liar?" "Oh, no, not at all. I'm saying your daughter is a liar. Surely you can appreciate the difference.

High school sucked. It was a universal truth, and whoever said these were supposed to be the best years of your life was probably drunk or delusional.

I get it," said Link. "Even if it wrecks everything, even if you know you're gonna get busted, sometimes you gotta do it anyway." "Something like that.

She leaned into my shoulder. "Maybe you don't have to be a Caster to have power." I pushed her hair behind her ear. "Maybe you just have to fall for one.

Mortals. I envy you. You think you can change things. Stop the universe. Undo what was done long before you came along. You are such beautiful creatures.

And you can look up just about anything, even dirty pictures. Every now and again, the dirtiest pictures you ever saw would pop up on the screen. Imagine!

Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn't have to. "You know, it's not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.

bent like the branches of a tree broken like the pieces of my heart cracked like the seventeenth moon shattered like the glass in the window the day we met

we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers

There were only two kinds of people in our town. ―The stupid and the stuck- ―The ones who are bound to stay or too dumb to go. Everyone else finds a way out.

I wanted to find a place to hide from all of it, where the nightmares and the rivers and reality couldn't find me. For me, that place was always inside a book.

The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” “Elton John?” “Close. Ernest Hemingway. In his own way, sort of the rock star of his time.

Because when every day is the End of Days, after a while they feel pretty much like every other day, even though you know that's crazy. And nothing is the same.

Oblivion eyes on a cereal box, the warm blinds of a father lost and last to know lost and last to love last boy lost you can't see even a bubble once it's popped

Your bird drinks whiskey and eats tobacco?" The old man frowned."Just be lad he doesn't like eatin' scrawny boys that don't know their way 'round the Otherworld.

What did you do to Amma?" "I was late to school." He studied my face. I studied his. "Number 2?" I nodded. "Sharp?" "Started out sharp and then she sharpened it.

Think of me as the praying mantis of the supernatural world. Aren't those the bugs that bite the heads off the males? Link looked skeptical. Yes. Then they eat them

She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget.

Here’s the million-dollar question: how are you going to write this book if you’re afraid to start writing? Give your friend Doubt a name, and then block his calls.

The more I learned about the world I thought I knew and all the ones I didn't, the more everything threaded together, leading everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.

I suppose I am a snob. I loathe towns. I loathe townspeople. They have small minds and giant backsides. Which is to say, what they lack in interiors they make up in posteriors.

Sunday night, I reread The Catcher in the Rye until I felt tired enough to fall asleep. Only I never got tired enough. And I couldn't read, because reading didn't feel the same.

Even when I didn't know anything else about where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. You were my Wayward, even then. Everything always brought me back to you. Everything.

They shouldn't call death passing on. They should call it leveling up. Because the game only got harder once I lost. And I was more than a little worried it had only just begun.

Just as I lay back, she sat up. I sat up, and she flopped back down. Awkward. That was my every move when it came to her. Now we were both lying down, staring up at the blue sky.

Knowing you don't have much time left changes things. You get kind of philosophical. And you figure things out-more like, they figure themselves out-and everything gets real clear.

Ethan: I love you, I whispered in her ear. She held my face in her hands and leaned back so she could look at me. Lena: I don't think I could ever love anything the way I love you.

I walked over and picked up one of the jugs. "What's this? Some kind of Caster disinfectant?" Lena took it out of my hand and lined it up with the others. "Yeah, it's called bleach.

I believe the term you’re searching for is smoking jacket. I find, now that I have whole days of sunshine ahead of me, I’ve discovered there is more to life than formal haberdashery.

I don’t think Kitchen makes this. What’s it called again?" "Jell-O Surprise." Link grinned. "What’s the surprise?" Ridley examined the red gelatin more closely. "What they put in it.

I'd ridden to school with Link every day since kindergarten, when we became best friends after he gave me half his Twinkie on the bus. I only found out later it had fallen on the floor.

At the beginning of a new project, often before I do any actual writing, I collect photos, quotes, song lyrics, and even objects that relate to the characters or the world I'm creating.

The one broken window that permanently wouldn't roll up had destroyed her perfectly curled blond prom-hair, and by the time we got to the gym she looked like Marie Antoinette with bedhead.

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