336 pages
Rating: (3.3K votes)
“Tears are like lies. The more you use them, the less they’re worth. The moral of the story is: STOP FUCKING CRYING.”
“The point is that people need to stop bitching about how things should be and learn to live with how they are.”
“If you find yourself caring about something, just remind yourself that you don’t need to give a fuck. Caring is for nicegirls.”
“Limit yourself to wines with names you can’t pronounce that are made from grapes harvested during or before Full House season one.”
“And even if you don’t have material possessions, pretending like you have your shit together is the best way to have your shit together until you actually do.”
“So hold your head up high, reserve your smiles for those who really deserve them, and let the world know it’s your bitch.”
“In a world where we’re constantly being reassured that it’s what’s on the inside that counts, it’s essential to understand that’s bullshit.”
“While Nice is just a place in France, happiness will always be a foreign state of mind. But fuck it. Let's rage.”
“You may not know the word, but you definitely know the girl. She’s the girl who has guys wrapped around her finger, whose outfit is always perfectly conceived, and who magically accomplishes whatever she wants, whether it’s getting an amazing job at twenty-two or engaged at twenty-five, and she does it effortlessly. She may seem unapproachable, but those who are lucky enough to know her are likely to claim that she’s “really great if you’re friends with her, but she can be a huge bitch.”
“While FB started off as something elite and cool, now the people who use it the most are the biggest freaks on the planet, which we’re chill with, because it’s now easier to spot them and then ignore them in the real world.”
“Abbrevs is to English as English is to Olde English.”
“Tears are like lies, the more you use them, the less they're worth.”
“The point is that people need to stop bitching about how things should be and learn to live with how they are. Once”
“It's all now you see. Yesterday won't be over until tomorrow and tomorrow began ten thousand years ago. For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it's still not yet two o'clock on that July afternoon in 1863, the brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are laid and ready in the woods and the furled flags are already loosened to break out and Pickett himself with his long oiled ringlets and his hat in one hand probably and his sword in the other looking up the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the word and it's all in the balance, it hasn't happened yet, it hasn't even begun yet, it not only hasn't begun yet but there is still time for it not to begin against that position and those circumstances which made more men than Garnett and Kemper and Armistead and Wilcox look grave yet it's going to begin, we all know that, we have come too far with too much at stake and that moment doesn't need even a fourteen-year-old boy to think This time. Maybe this time with all this much to lose than all this much to gain: Pennsylvania, Maryland, the world, the golden dome of Washington itself to crown with desperate and unbelievable victory the desperate gamble, the cast made two years ago; or to anyone who ever sailed a skiff under a quilt sail, the moment in 1492 when somebody thought This is it: the absolute edge of no return, to turn back now and make home or sail irrevocably on and either find land or plunge over the world's roaring rim.”
“I should hate to be a regular girl with a sugar-plum voice. I should hate to have swan-like lashes, and a thick, sooty neck. I sound as though I’m joking, I know, but I should truly hate to be like Leanne, so charming and ordinary and stuffed with clichéd feelings. I’m glad I’m the ice maiden. Who wants to be crying over every stray dog? Not I.
Scratch my surface and what do you see? More surface.”
“I am exhausted by trying to get along with the Lord.”
“One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.”
“I devour her. And she consumes me.”
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