“Fuck the world. Do what you feel is right, and you have every right to love whomever you want.”
“I’m talking about the kind of indignity that changes you as a person, makes you withdraw, hide from the world because suddenly it’s turned into something frightening—full of dark corners and monsters.”
“It was decided. I was going to let Ryan Foster do me. I had no idea when it would happen, but it was inevitable. If he kept being this cute, it was inevitable.”
“I realized I needed to look at evil in an entirely new light. Most bad guys weren’t running around with eyes bugged out. Most bad guys didn’t come across freaky and frightening…Most bad guys were normal, everyday guys moving through life like anyone else… They were hard to spot and that’s what made them so good at being bad… They could get away with it, and they knew it.”
“It’s always described as melting, and I finally understood why. I thought my body was turning to liquid. I could feel my bones giving way, threatening to dissolve and leave me one big puddle of goo.”
“Ryan chuckled. “You’re going to be my trouble this year, aren't you?” he asked softly. Hell yeah I was.”
“I don't know. It's the world we live in, I guess. Some things will never be fair.”
“I thought if I stared a little longer I could see right inside his head, to his brain, and I don’t know why that turned me on so much. I wanted to witness the workings of his mind, the firing synapses, information traveling safely inside neurons to different parts of his body. A few made it to his hand, and they must have told him to keep holding mine because he didn’t let go.”
“People take advantage of good people. That's what I mean. So don't be a sucker.”
“How can he not have any friends? He's so cute.”
“Brooke, why don't we talk about you instead? You seem much more interesting." I started feeling frustrated. "I'm sure that's not true. Why are you so mysterious?”
“Ryan, when did you get a girlfriend?" his sister asked.
"She's not my girlfriend, Kaylen," Ryan replied. "Go away.”
“The first contact of brush on canvas is a heady thing. I think it's the promise of something wonderful, beautiful. You can see the finished product in you mind's eye, nt it never turns out quite as you expect. It's always better, or at least that's been my experience. And that's where the headiness comes in. You think you know what to expect. You think you have it all planned out. But something in you always surprises you, and it's buzzing undercurrent that keeps you silently guessing until your picture is complete.”
“The first contact of brush on canvas is a heady thing. I think it’s the promise of something wonderful, beautiful. You can see the finished product in your mind’s eye, but it never turns out quite as you expect. It’s always better, or at least that’s been my experience. And that’s where the headiness comes in. You think you know what to expect. You think you have it all planned out. But something in you always surprises you, and it’s a buzzing undercurrent that keeps you silently guessing until your picture is complete.”
“Oil paints were wiser to the human condition, understanding our imperfections and giving us enough time to rework ourselves until we made things right.”
“parents, bread-butter again,’ I grumbled, shutting a blue plastic tiffin in the second row. Raghav and I moved to the next desk. ‘Forget it, Gopal. The class will be back any time,’ Raghav said.”
“I've heard people say they lose themselves in a kiss, but it was like we found ourselves the second our lips met. It was like he took me apart and put me back together with that kiss.”
“He is thinking about asymmetry. This is a world, he is thinking, where you can lie in bed, listening to a song as you dream about someone you love, and your feelings and the music will resonate so powerfully and completely that it seems impossible that the beloved, whoever and wherever he or she might be, should not know, should not pick up this signal as it pulsates from your heart, as if you and the music and the love and the whole universe have merged into one force that can be chanelled out into the darkness to bring them this message. But, in actuality, not only will he or she not know, there is nothing to stop that other person from lying on his or her bed at the exact moment listening to the exact same song and thinking about someone else entirely-from aiming those identical feelings in some completely opposite direction, at some totally other person, who may in turn be lying in the dark thinking of another person still, a fourth, who is thinking of a fifth, and so on, and so on, so that rather than a universe of neatly reciprocating pairs, love and love-returned fluttering through space nicely and symmetrically like so many pairs of butterfly wings, instead we get chains of yearning, which sprawl and meander and culminate in an infinite number of dead ends.”
“Would that we could soar forever beyond the reach of earth, away from the dangers that await us the moment we alight.”
“Tony wanted to kill me, the Senate wanted to make me their stooge, and, oh, yeah, I'd also managed to piss off the mages. What can I say? I'm an overachiever.”
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