Can't get away from your own self.
You can always count on your family to love you. And to betray you. And then to feel guilty about it.
He looks like the good boy he's never been.
Poisonous jealousy thrummed through my veins.
Crippled things are always more beautiful. It's the flaw that brings out beauty.
I love you, you see...and I fear I have no way to say or show it that isn't terrible, except coming here. I would kill everyone in the world for you, if you wanted.......Or not obviously
I can learn to live with guilt. I don't care about being good.
I thought weirdness was a good thing. I don't mean that defensively, either. I thought it was something to be cultivated.
I survive at the edge of friends circles.
I'm not very good at explaining things," she said. "But I think you have beautiful eyes. I love the gold in them. I love that they're different from my eyes- I see mine all the time and I'm bored with them.
This, the language of deception, we both understand. We were born to it, along with the curses.
Telling Sam and Daneca feels like peeling off my own skin to expose everything underneath. It hurts.
There are no words for how much I will miss her, but I try to kiss her so that she'll know. I try to kiss her to tell her the whole story of my love, the way I dreamed of her when she was dead, the way that every other girl seemed like a mirror that showed me her face. The way my skin ached for her. The way that kissing her made me feel like I was drowning and like I was being saved all at the same time. I hope she can taste all that, bittersweet, on my tongue.
I'm afraid my voice is going to break. I am afraid she is going to hear how much this hurts.
He wondered whether growing up was learning that most stories turned out to be lies.
What an author doesn't know could fill a book.
Mine. The language of love is like that, possessive. That should be the first warning that it's not going to encourage anyone's betterment.
You can break a thing, but you cannot always guide it afterward into the shape you want.
The row of dolls watched her impassively from the bookshelf, their tea party propriety almost certainly offended.
She wants me to take out Patton.” Barron’s brows draw together. “Take out? As in transform him?” “No,” I say. “As in take out to dinner. She thinks we’d make a good couple.
I thought you needed to be tougher. But I've been thinking that protecting somebody by hurting them before someone else gets the chance isn't the kind of protecting that anybody wants.
If she was going to die, she might as well die sarcastic.
I heard you've been having some problems with your girlfriend." Headmistress Northcutt says. "No," I say. "Not at all." Audrey broke up with me after the winter holiday, exhausted by my moodiness. It's impossible to have problems with a girlfriend who's no longer mine.
I'm the best kind of thief, the kind that leaves behind items equal in value to those he's stolen.
She wears trouble like a crown. If she ever falls in love, she’ll fall like a comet, burning the sky as she goes.
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