I have a good life, I remind myself. There are plenty of people who love me. They're just not around at the moment.
How's happiness class going, by the way?" "Okay, so far." "Are you feeling happy?" he asks with the hint of a smirk. I shrug. "The professor says that happiness is wanting what you have." Christian makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. ...
Dad scowls. "Phen." He says the name like it's a swear word. "Disgusting, cowardly creatures, the ambivalent. Worse than the fallen, in many ways." His eyes are so fierce it's a tad scary. "They have no conviction at all.
I love you," he murmurs. "Can you feel that? You. Not some destiny I think I'm called to. You. I'm with you. My strength. My soul. My heart. Feel it.
I can't leave you," he says hoarsely. "I can't leave you either," I say, shaking my head. "I can't." "Then don't," he says, and grabs me behind the neck and kisses me again, and the world is tilting, and everything goes black.
I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets.
Shawshank’s good,” he says. “But you can’t beat the way Woody Harrelson kills zombies. He takes such joy in it.” “Uh-huh,” I say, making a face. “I’ve always found zombies to be the least threatening of the scary monsters. I mean, c...
Where are you?" I wheeze into the floor. "Where did you go?
It's just high school, man. Those guys are just high school guys, and in ten years they're going to be working for people like me. I know that. I just have to make it through two more years.
It's funny how sometimes you don't see the obvious things coming. You think you know what life has in store for you. You think you're prepared. You think you can handle it. And then-boom, like a thunderclap-something comes at you out of nowhere and c...
Everybody dies, and everybody loses people they love-everybody-and that is not an excuse for you to fucking die. I love you, and I need you to be my mother, and I need you to have a life. So get over yourself.
I understand now that nobody could have saved Ty but Ty. There’s no one else to blame. Not you. Not me. Ty was holding all the cards.
Art shows what's inside. And that's scary. Showing my paintings would be like...like cutting my arm open in front of a crowd and showing them what color I bleed.
But this was just metal and glass once," [Carter] said. "Raw materials. No form. No purpose. But Ben saw something in his mind. And the chemicals in his brain arranged to tell his hands to craft these uninteresting materials. This [sculpture] is the ...
You just...you don't take crap from anyone. But not in the fake, rebellious way that most kids do it, like they got something to prove. You're real, and people respect you a lot for that.
His name is Christian,” he calls back. “Can you believe that? We came all this way so Clara could save a guy named Christian.” “I’m aware of the irony.
Hot is really not an adequate enough word for this guy. He is crazy beautiful. And it’s more than his looks—the intentionally messy waves of his dark hair; the strong eyebrows that make his expression a bit serious, even when he smiles; his eyes,...
And,” Kay adds as her final touch, “Christian Prescott is my boyfriend.” I dislike her already.
As a serf, poor Christian has already been killed several times in our class. Aside from dying of the Black Plague on the first day, he’s starved to death, had his hands cut off for stealing a loaf of bread, and been run down by his master’s hors...
Once again, my hero. And here I’m supposed to be the one saving him.
