“Chin up, don’t smile, don’t cry, don’t fall, walk.”
“We all make mistakes, some bigger than others, but none of us is perfect.”
“Love can change us beyond recognition, we become love-sick, soft-eyed jelly-bellied fools.”
“He was comparing you to the butterflies that you both adore and cherish, and he said you were special for the same reasons: you were rare, exotic and entirely you. He said you're beautiful exactly the way are now.”
“Some people say that you shouldn't operate from a place of fear but if there is no fear, how is there a challenge?”
“Nobody can pretend to know what people want to read or hear or see. People rarely know it themselves; they only know it after the fact.”
“Journalism classes teach us that one must extract oneself from the story in order to report without bias, but often we need to be in the story in order to understand, to connect, to help the audience identify or else it has no heart; it could be a robot telling the story, for all anyone cares.”
“Don't worry..we all have our blips. See, we all go through it, now it's your turn. It's only fair”
“You had heard of a caterpillar that couldn't turn into a butterfly. And you would like to examine how it would feel to be denied such a beautiful thing. You would like to know how it feels for the caterpillar to watch other caterpillars transform while all the time knowing he would never have that opportunity.”
“You were the only person who truly told me in that interview that you weren't afraid to fly, that in fact you were afraid that you wouldn't.”
“There are more people involved in telling a story than the writer.”
“Every single ordinary person has an extraordinary story.”
“People who believe that they are not interesting, usually are the most interesting of all.”
“I cannot get through this day. But I did. Somehow. And then that day was over and I was facing the night and I said to myself, I cannot face this night. But I did. Somehow”
“Above Constance's desk were nude photographs of women in 1930s France, draped in provocative poses. She had put them there for Bob's viewing pleasure and in return he had placed African art of naked men above his desk for her.”
“So how long have you been together? Two months?'
'Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.'
'Don't. They give away your Spock ears.'
She laughed. 'This is the Romanian girl?'
'Right. She's a painter?'
'Right.' She studied him.
'What?' he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy who'd just been caught with his first girlfriend.
'I don't know Steve,' she cut into her meat, 'you've changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think...'
'You think what?'
'I don't know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think there's a possibility you might not be gay after all.'
A chip was hurled at her head.”
“Each second is rather torturous, as though it will never move on, and as though it will never get any easier, and yet when I look back on it, look where we are. Two weeks on. And I’m doing it. And I still believe I simply cannot.”
“You’re always sorry 'after' you do something. You never think about how they feel or how you’d feel 'before'.”
“And then one good thing happened that day, the first good thing, the only good thing, but sometimes you only ever need one good thing.”
“She felt disgusting and used and like she could never trust anyone ever again, and the last thing she wanted was food.”
“There was so much time wasted not spending it together.”
“I believed in God as much as I believed in germs. It was something adults just scared you about, just habit, something I had to do.”
“People didn't always listen to the narrative, they just looked at the pictures.”
“I'm sure it's like you writing a story. If you don't care, how can the reader?”
“Apart from them, Kitty had never been able to keep friends, not because she was disloyal in any way, she just felt that she hadn't connected with anyone deeply since her school friends and so it was easy to drift away as life moved on, as college finished and as she found new jobs and created new friendships that lasted as long as the jobs had.”
“I never believed in God. Not even at school when my priestly teacher drummed the fear and the guilt into us. I believed that he believed it, all right, but I thought he was mad. Delusional. I thought if somebody had to force you that much to believe in something then it wasn't worth believing, that it wasn't natural, you know?”
“Love can soften people, I believe that. But in me, now, love riles up an anger, a red-hot rage that crawls on my skin, seeps into my blood and brings out the worst in me. That's why everyone I love is better off loving me from afar.”
“It's not easy, I suppose, but it's not all bad... I usen't to believe in marriage. My mum and dad separated when I was young, it was nasty and so I didn't have a good example of marriage, but a lot of my friends are getting married now mostly I do their hair. All brides are nervous for different reasons, whether they're sick or not. You just have to judge if they want to chat or not. Some don't. The main difference is my friends are panicking about the "for ever" part. They have to stay together for ever whereas Diane's worried because she knows that it can't be. When I get married I want to be like Diane and hope beyond hope that it can be for ever.”
“And that’s what the problem was – Kitty had finally nailed it. In the six months of Etcetera stories that Kitty had pored over, she now realised she hadn’t written a single article that had been an idea of her own. Each story had been proposed by Pete or Cheryl or by somebody else who had enough on their own plate and was unable to write it. She hadn’t noticed it happening because she hadn’t minded.”
“Some people say that you shouldn’t operate from a place of fear,’ Constance went on, ‘but if there is no fear, how is there a challenge?”
“What's the good of one person clinging to his morals when everyone else is so corrupt? What's the good of that?”
“We have no right to children if despair is all we bring with us.”
“One thing, however, did become clear to him—why so many perfect works of art did not please him at all, why they were almost hateful and boring to him, in spite of a certain undeniable beauty. Workshops, churches, and palaces were full of these fatal works of art; he had even helped with a few himself. They were deeply disappointing because they aroused the desire for the highest and did not fulfill it. They lacked the most essential thing—mystery. That was what dreams and truly great works of art had in common: mystery.”
“If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers...”
“You strike me as someone who prefers it when people are upfront.”
It was true that Harper had no time or patience for mind games. “So?”
Knox leaned forward, wanting her to see the resolve in his expression. “I want you.”
And Harper nearly choked on her steak. When she’d finally swallowed it down with the help of her wine, she shrugged. “Thanks for sharing.”
“You want me.” She cast him a glare, but didn’t deny it, which soothed his demon slightly. “But you’re going to fight aren’t you?”
Every step of the way.”
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