SIMON LEWIS, ERIC HILLCHURCH, KIRK DUPLESSE, AND MATT CHARLTON "THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS" MAY 19, PROSPECT PARK BAND SHELL BRING THIS FLYER, GET $5 OFF YOUR ENTRANCE FEE!
I'm not an angel, Jace," she repeated. "I don't return library books. I steal illegal music off the internet. I lie to my mom. I am .
Maybe I shouldn't scare off my date so quickly by shooting guns and telling stories about vomit, but, hey, the sooner he knows the real me, the better.
So it's true. You can walk in sunlight. I thought perhaps it might have worn off." "If I feel the urge to burst into flames, I'll let you know.
Trap yourself inside your own brain, switch off the light, block all the escape routes, then turn your back on everything you know to be reality and try and survive there. Try. Living. Nowhere.
That's it, Uncle Huey!" Imogene Duckworthy whipped off her apron and flung it onto the slick, stainless steel counter. "I quit!" If only her voice didn’t sound so young.
My first time I jacked off, I thought I'd invented it. I looked down at my sloppy handful of junk and thought, This is going to make me rich.
After this, I can't resist. "Between you, me, and the rest of us, Ted, it's starting to show. You'd better work out, or getting fat off Daddy might be harder to hide.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. Like a desert wanderer afraid of mirages, I gazed at my oasis, but he was real.
And yes, when he kisses you, the rest of the world disappears and your brain shuts off and all you can feel are his lips and nothing else matters.
Some people are attracted to sickness, to the kind of madness where sparks fly off the head, to the incoherence of despair, masked by nervous energy, which winds up looking like bewildered joy.
I've been clinging to this world like a discarded shell of an insect stuck to a branch, about to be blown off forever by a gust of wind.
People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.
I will tell you something about stories . . . They aren't just entertainment. Don't be fooled. They are all we have, you see, all we have to fight off illness and death.
You’re British, you’re a priest, you’re a medical doctor, you can handle a rifle, you know Morse Code, and most importantly of all, you’re a fucking pain in the ass – so off you go!
I can't do nothing. Just put it off. And that don't do no good. I reckon it belong to me. I reckon what I going to get ain't no more than mine.
She had picked up life where she had left off... and hoped that would be enough to get the universe to politely overlook her.
Pick the axe; chop off the anger; burn the pieces and bury the ashes. Anger kills before it is noticed. It travels faster to the destination to destroy long before conscience arrives to regret it!
Be careful of who becomes your friend and why. The person who will bite off your lips one day will have to first promise you a kiss today. Be careful of hypocrites.
If you cannot see the rainbow because your face is down, don't argue that no rainbow is up there. Lift up your passion and take your dreams off the ground!
Encourage yourself and do it bit by bit. It may appear tough, but every single bite of it every day is an endorsement that all will be chopped off sooner. Nothing is too difficult!
