“I tended to spend too much time with my favorite things, loved them too hard until I wore them down. After a while, they became more like a shorthand for who I was and less like things I actually enjoyed.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“She looked like a whisper made real.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“Maybe this is what happened when you built a friendship on a foundation of mutual disaster. It collapsed the second things righted themselves, left you desperate for the next earthquake.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“Friendship I understood. There had to be an arc there, some kind of story that the two of you were telling just by being together. Something made up from what you wanted from the world and what you got instead. A story you reminded each other of when you needed to feel understood.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“You know, I told Dad not to tell you about that whole near-death thing. I said that you'd overreact, and I was right."
There was a long pause, and then the shouting got somewhat louder.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“I’m a teenage girl. He is my boy best friend. We would be everything to each other until we couldn’t.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“dicere quae puduit, scribere jussit amor”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“There’s not a lot you can control, you know. Where you’re born. Who your family is. What people want from you, and what you are, underneath it all. When you have so little say in it all, I think it’s important to exercise a measure of control when given the opportunity.” She smiled, ducking her head. “So I blow things up.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“Do you know what love is? I’ll tell you: it is whatever you can still betray.” THE LOOKING GLASS WAR, JOHN LE CARRÉ”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“There needs to be a German compound word for feeling both guilty and enraged. - Jamie”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“Charlotte. There's a girl on the roof. She says her name is Lena... She says she brought the helicopter you wanted? - August”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“She smiled at me, that one particular smile I hardly ever saw, the one that could open padlocks, Yale locks, bank vaults, the one that was a trapdoor down into everything.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“It’s strange to grieve for your former self, and still I think it’s something that any girl understands. I’ve shed so many skins, I hardly know what I am now—muscle, maybe, or just memory. Perhaps just the will to keep going.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“But these—they weren’t case updates so much as letters, the kind you wrote to someone you knew so well you could imagine them beside you, even when they were across an ocean, living out another life.”
― Brittany Cavallaro, quote from The Last of August
“Liz?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you care about me?"
The question seems to startle me. It's uncharacteristic for Richie, who is usually so cool and self-assured. I open my eyes. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Because I don't understand. We're so different."
I reach around the side of his face. Once again, I wipe fresh beads of sweat from his forehead. This time, I don't even bother wiping my hands on my pants. I lace my fingers into his again, and the two of us lie together, his damp clamminess seeping onto my made up face and my pretty clothes. Obviously, I couldn't care less.
"But we fit," I whisper. "Like this." And I tighten my grip around him.
"Mmm." He smiles, his eyes still closed.
"You're right. We do."
"Richie...I'm lying. I don't like you."
"You don't?" His voice cracks.
"No." I bring my lips close to his ear. "I love you Richie Wilson.”
― quote from Between
“To the uneducated an A is just three sticks.”
― A.A. Milne, quote from The World of Winnie-the-Pooh
“Christopher . . . are these from you?” she asked at lunch, careful to make her tone light as she placed the two picture-poems on the table. Christopher’s eyes fell to them, and he smiled.
“Yes.”
He didn’t ask if she liked them, and he didn’t seem embarrassed.
Sarah was flustered, and somewhat surprised by Christopher’s easy confidence. Even so, her natural suspicion surfaced. “Why?”
“Because,” he answered seriously, “you make a good subject. Your hair, for one, is like a shimmering waterfall. It’s so fair that it catches the light. It makes you seem like you have a halo about you. And your eyes—they’re such a pure color, not washed out at all, deep as the ocean. And your expression . . . intense and yet somehow detached, as if you see more of the world than the rest of us.”
Flustered, she could think of no way to respond. Did he just say this stuff from the top of his head? Only her strict Vida control kept her from blushing.
Meanwhile Nissa entered the cafeteria. She started to sit, then glanced from the pictures, to Christopher, to Sarah. “Should I go somewhere else?”
Christopher nodded to a chair, answering easily, “Sit down. We aren’t exchanging dark secrets—yet.”
Nissa flashed a teasing look to her brother as she took a seat. “As his sister, I feel the need to inform you, Sarah, that Christopher has been talking about you incessantly.”
Christopher smiled, unembarrassed. “I suppose I might have been.’
“Especially your eyes—he never shuts up about your eyes,” Nissa confided, and this time Christopher shrugged.
“They’re beautiful,” he said casually. “Beauty should be looked at, not ignored. I try to capture it on paper, but that’s really impossible with eyes, because they have a life no still portrait can capture.”
Sarah’s voice was tied up so tightly she thought she might be able to speak again sometime next year. No one had ever talked about her—or to her—with such admiration.”
― Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, quote from Shattered Mirror
“I wish I had a book with me, since clearly I have a lot of time on my hands. I always carry around one or two, but we had to leave our backpacks on the bus.”
― Wendy Mass, quote from Finally
“Pity is not forgiveness, nor is gratitude absolution.”
― Pierce Brown, quote from Morning Star
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