Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
Feelings aren't forever. Time waits for no one, but progress waits for man to enact it.
Black is too morbid; red will set them on edge; pink is too juvenile; orange is freakish
A good friend keeps your secrets for you. A best friend helps you keep your own secrets.
You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will find a way to resist
Everyone you trust, everyone you think you can count on, will eventually disappoint you.
I used to think that's what love was: knowing someone so well he was like a part of you.
I'll find you," he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. "I won't let you go again
Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.
The tunnels may be long, and twisted, and dark; but you are supposed to go through them.
How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all?
I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.
How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?
Maybe this is the secret to talking to boys--maybe you just have to be angry all the time.
Don't worry about what you're writing or whether it's good or even whether it makes sense.
The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t.
No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.
That’s what made it so frightening to the lawmakers: Love obeys no laws other than its own.
Everything I see and touch reminds me of him, and so everything I see and touch is perfect.
I’m sorry,” he repeats again, too low for Raven and Tack to hear. “I’m sorry for everything.
We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.
Things change after you die, though, I guess because dying is the loneliest thing you can do.
That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.
A string of bright white buildinh, glistening like teeth over the slurping mouth of the ocean.
That is the strangest thing about the world: how it looks so different from every point of view.
Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?
If you want something, if you take it for your own, you'll always be taking it from someone else.
The flip side of freedom is this: When you're completely free, you're also completely on your own.
That's the thing about best friends. That's what they do. They keep you from spinning off the edge.
I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.
My parents were pretty liberal, but they were still parents. I definitely had my teenage rebellion.
Because?' I prompt 'Because I'm sorry, but I can't help it, and I really need to kiss you right now.
This was what being cured was like: like being in a fishbowl, circling always inside the same glass.
He's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. We're stuck. That's what growing up is all about, I guess.
That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.
that's what it was like waking up in the crypts. no-longer-dead. but without her. like burning alive.
The Story of Solomon is the only way I know how to explain. And then, in smaller letters: Forgive me.
I'd rather die on my own terms than live on theirs. I'd rather die loving Alex than live without him.
I will make a pact with you: I will do it if you will do it, always and forever. Take down the walls.
But it does not tell you this: that love will turn the whole world into something greater than itself.
The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.
Anger is useful only to a certain point. After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless.
The worst is knowing I can't tell anybody what's happening -or what's happened- to me. Not even my mom.
But that's the problem with love - it acts on you, works through you, resists your attempts to control.
Is it possible to tell the truth in a society of lies? Or must you always, of necessity, become a liar?
It's funny how you can know your friends so well, but you still end up playing the same games with them.
Hunky Heroes, rescuing distressed women, captive princesses, and girls without wheels since 1684. p. 450
Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is different--it is being alive.
There is only what you want and what happens. There is only grabbing on and holding tight in the darkness.
I didn't realize then what a privilege that was: to be bored with your best friend; to have time to waste.