Jessica Sorensen · 294 pages
Rating: (5.7K votes)
“Wishes are just wishes. Destiny is just destiny. And neither really has control over your life. Shit happens, shapes our lives, but doesn’t have to shape who we are.”
“Nothing can be erased in life. Life is permanent, from the breaths we take to the decisions we make.”
“Only when I know she’s fast asleep do I dare whisper the truth. “I would never leave you… Because I love you.”
“I don't know what's happening to me," she says, blinking through a veil of tears as she looks everywhere but at me. "I don't think I can do this anymore."
My heart plummets inside my chest, my lips still hovering over hers, my hands on her waist "do what anymore?" I don't want the answer, don't want to hear what follows my question, don't want to lose her.
"Fight it." Tears are still flowing from her eyes, but I think she stop crying. She sucks and several breaths when she looks at me, her eyes are clear that I anticipated. She's scared shitless - that's clear - but it's like she stop fighting the fear, giving into it instead.
Her lips apart and I'm a stop whatever she's about to say, silence her with my lips, but I don't, forcing myself to hear, needing to know what's got all worked up.
"I think I'm in love with you," she says, her chest heaving with every ravenous breath she takes, yet her voice is astonishingly even and she manages to maintain my gaze.
My voice however is the exact opposite of even, coming out all high-pitched like I'm a thirteen year old and going through puberty all over again. "What?"
She sucks and a breath, then releases is slowly, the fear in her eyes subsiding, as if she just won it. "I think I'm in love with you..." She bites on your lips and shakes her head. "No...I don't think. I know."
I gradually process her words and the full extent of what she's saying. I think I'd honestly believed that she might never say them, that this love thing was going to be a one-way street. Hearing her say it... I don't even know how to describe it. It's like my entire life of associated the word with hatred. Every time my mother said it, it felt like she was trying to take something from me and it made me hate her and myself-Love equaled hate for me. But hearing it from Violet's lips, seeing that look in her eyes, the one I've never seen from anyone, is so different. She's not taking something for me right now, she's giving me something.
She's giving me everything.”
“Then I lean back and take in the side of her, every speck of flesh, every freckle, every line of ink she has. So fucking gorgeous I can't stand it. I feel like I'm about to combust. I want her so badly that my body is throbbing, my veins pulsating with desire and need.
The need to be with her.
Forever.
And ever.
And ever.
And when I open my mouth to say it, this time it's different - this time it means more than the first time I said it, because I know I can say it and it'll be welcomed not feared.
"I love you too, Violet Hayes," I whisper then let my lips crash against her showing her with my mouth just how much I mean it.
God, do I fucking mean it. More than anything else in my life.”
“Excitement about things became a habit, a part of my personality, and the expectation that I should enjoy new experiences often engendered the enjoyment itself.”
“- Значи, тя просто се смяфка, без да има някакъв спечален повод? - мъдро каза той.
- Да бе, туйто, чисто и просно - отвърна Ричард. - Сутрин, прокобед и вечер само се смяфка като смяхната.
Спасторът вдигна поглед от къркоделието си и си отвори устите:
- Трябва да се стори нещо за това момиче, което се смяфка непрекъснато. Не е правилно.
- Наистина, не развирам, защо те ми се бърбърлят дали се смяфкам, или не се смяфкам. - въздъхна Араминта нашата търтелива жерква.- Неприятното на кражданите тука им е, че са закравили, ще го повторя, закравили са как се смяфка човек. Поне аз мисля тъй преподобни.”
“I’m Emma. I’m here to make you see the meaning of your life.” Her exalted words were totally conquered by her dragging tone and lack of eye contact.”
“(Satan's) first goal, of course, is to make sure we never meet the Prince who is Jesus of Nazareth or experience a taste of the Great Ball, But once we have, Satan's second and lifelong purpose with each of us is to make sure we never know who we really are; indeed, to keep us living the life of a cellar maid rather than a princess. Even though we who are believers have tasted the Ball and the love of the Prince in beginning ways, the voices of the stepsisters continue to speak to us in tones varying from whispers to shouts, and like Cinderella, each of us has our own years as a "cellar maid" that the enemy can whisper to us about, causing us to wonder if this isn't who we really are after all.”
“The great merit of being a doctor,” said Sir Bartholomew, “is that you are not obliged to follow your own advice.”
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