Like a lot of people, I’ve always enjoyed commenting on strangers’ outfits. Unlike a lot of people, I now had a new megaphone to do it with. And, let me tell you, commenting on people’s hilarious clothing choices through a megaphone makes it so...
As far as I can tell, it doesn't make any difference to adults how clever children are. They always stick together. Unless you are sick or dying or mortally wounded, they will always side with the other adult.
But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.
I recalled something I’d read a long time ago about Satan. When he appeared, it wouldn’t be as a demon but as an ordinary-looking guy with a convincing message of peace.
I see why our little Braith likes you.” “Does she?” “Can’t you tell?” “I’m male. I have no idea what you females are thinking.
That's the difference between you and Greta. She has better things to do. She gets involved in clubs, activities. She has friends. But you? You slump around in that room of yours--
I dream about people who don't need to have sex to know they love each other. I dream about people who would only ever kiss you on the cheek.
It's the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven't done everything they want to do. They think they haven't had enough time. They feel they've been shortchanged.
I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.
I like the word clandestine. It feels medieval. Sometimes I think of words as being alive. If clandestine were alive, it would be a pale little girl with hair the color of fall leaves and a dress as white as the moon.
Our mind is a crazy nightclub of cacophonous sound filled with strange images and one-night stands: our mind tells us lonely, loveless tales that leave us frightened but really have no lasting power
I don’t see the me that you see. I wish for just a little bit I could climb into you and then you could climb into me and then we could tell each other what we saw there.
I love the smell of my mother’s hair after she washes it. I love the feel of the scratchy stubble on my father’s face before he shaves. But I’ve never been able to tell them.
I love you beyond paint, beyond melodies, beyond words. And I hope you will always feel that, even when I'm not around to tell you so.
I'm giving you what I can give you, and I'm telling you in advance that you might get hurt. But it's worth it to take the risk. I can damn well promise you that it's worth it.
Kelsey flopped next to him, propping her elbow on the back of the couch so she was facing him. "Do you have something against happiness?" "Yes. Don't tell anyone, but I moonlight as the Grinch.
Do you know how you get the urge to clean your room, and it’s no big deal? But when your mom tells you that you have to clean your room, you don't want to? That's me, anyway.
Posting your thoughts on any social media site is like telling you most deeply held secret to the town gossip. Not a wise move.
This is about more." He arched, tilting a little. Billy set the weight swinging again. "Tell me what it's about." "Uh... It's... I... It's about everything. It's like you're inside me, like my bones.
I know the difference between reality and fantasy. Those with sick fantasies who know and respect this difference are much less dangerous than those with no fantasies at all, but who can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
Please tell me it's going to rain today, Francois.' 'Ah!' he smiled. (This was obviously familiar territory.) 'I regret to inform you that the forecast calls for nothing but sunshine.' 'Relentless sunshine,' she corrected him.
