The House in the Cerulean Sea

We should always make time for the things we like. If we don't, we might forget how to be happy.

Hate is loud, but I think you'll learn it's because it's only a few people shouting, desperate to be heard. You might not ever be able to change their minds, but so long as your remember you're not alone, you will overcome.

Change often starts with the smallest of whispers. Like-minded people building it up to a roar.

I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.

You’re too precious to put into words. I think … it’s like one of Theodore’s buttons. If you asked him why he cared about them so, he would tell you it’s because they exist at all.

Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to be real monsters. They could be the ones we make up in our heads. Don’t you think that’s weird?

Just because you don’t experience prejudice in your everyday doesn’t stop it from existing for the rest of us.

A home isn’t always the house we live in. It’s also the people we choose to surround ourselves with. You may not live on the island, but you can’t tell me it’s not your home. Your bubble, Mr. Baker. It’s been popped. Why would you allow it to grow around you again?

A home isn't always the house we live in. It's also the people we choose to surround ourselves with.

When something is broken, you can put it back together. It may not fit quite the same, or work like it did once before, but that doesn't mean it's no longer useful.

Your voice is a weapon. Never forget that.

Sometimes our prejudices color our thoughts when we least expect them to. If we can recognize that, and learn from it, we can become better people.

I'm afraid I don't have magic." "You do, Mr. Baker. Arthur told me that there can be magic in the ordinary.

It's the little things, I expect. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It's beautiful, when you think about it.

People suck, but sometimes, they should just drown in their own suckage without our help.

The things we fear the most are often the things we should fear the least. It’s irrational, but it’s what makes us human. And if we’re able to conquer those fears, then there is nothing we’re not capable of.

And the spiders?" "Still there." "But?" "But I can have spiders in my head as long as I don't let them consume me.

The world likes to see things in black and white, in moral and immoral. But there is gray in between. And just because a person is capable of wickedness, doesen't mean they will act upon it.

Because even the bravest of us can still be afraid sometimes, so long as we don’t let our fear become all we know.

He couldn't believe it was only Wednesday. And it was made worse when he realized it was actually Tuesday.

But guess what?” “What?” “There was no treasure after all! It was a lie to get you here for your party!” “Oh. I see. So the real treasure was the friendships we made along the way?” “You guys are the worst,” Lucy muttered. “The literal worst.

I may have lost my mind," he told her. "Isn't it wonderful?

Home is where you feel like yourself,

We get trapped in our own little bubbles, and even though the world is a wide and mysterious place, our bubbles keep us safe from that. To our detriment.” She sighed. “But it’s so easy because there’s something soothing about routine. Day in and day out, it’s always the same. When we’re shaken from that, when that bubble bursts, it can be hard to understand all that we’ve missed.

Don’t you wish you were here?

She sighed as she set her spade down before turning to look at him. She was crying. Linus didn’t hesitate as he scooped her up in his arms. She buried her face in his neck, beard tickling his throat. “I am going to bury you right here,” she sobbed. “I’m digging your grave, just so you know.” “I know,” he said, rubbing a hand over her back. “I would expect nothing less.

He’d accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him.

There are moments in your life, moments when chances have to be taken. It's scary because there is always the possibility of failure. I know that. I KNOW that. Because once upon a time, I took a chance on a man that I had failed before. I was SCARED. I was TERRIFIED. I thought I might lose everything. But I wasn't living, then. The life I had before wasn't LIVING. It was getting by. And I will never regret the chances I took. Because it brought me to them. To all of them. I made my choice. And you're making yours. Don't you wish things could be different?

Why can’t life work whatever way we want it to? What’s the point of living if you only do it how others want you to?

Regardless of what else he is, he is still a child, as they all are. And don’t all children deserve to be protected? To be loved and nurtured so that they may grow and shape the world to make it a better place? In that way, they are no different than any other child in the village, or beyond. But they’re told they are, by people such as yourselves, and people who govern them and our world. People who put rules and restrictions in place to keep them separated and isolated. I don’t know what it will take to change that, if anything. But it won’t start at the top. It’ll start with us.