I get why he chose her. I just wish she had chosen me.
I consider kissing her right there on the dirty couch, but self-preservation stops me. Once someone hurts you, it’s harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn’t...
Every plan is a house of cards.
Every hero is the villain of his own story.
Each of you will have a chance to play it, and whosoever plays most sweetly, you will have it. For art is more than virtue or vice.
Don't be drinking the Haterade.
You shouldn't let it bother you, Drew said earnestly. That's just babble. It doesn't mean anything. None of you are going to die and you're obviously not dead. For Pete's sake.
You don’t know what you are.
What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything? If I stopped trying to belong?
She looks honestly upset, but then, I’ve learned that I can’t read her. The problem with a really excellent liar is that you have to just assume they’re always lying.
Only idiots aren’t scared of things that are scary.
One fine day, in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other. They pulled out their swords and shot one another. One deaf cop, on the beat heard the nois...
Let me look out for you. Let your enemies become mine.
Kiss me until I am sick of it.
In Faerie, there are no fish sticks, no ketchup, no television.
I like for things to happen, for stories to unfold. And if I can’t find a good enough story, I make one.
I do not understand why he likes me, but it is exciting to be liked.
Crowns of flowers on our heads, shooting bows and arrows at the sky. Eating candied violets and falling asleep with our heads pillowed on logs. We were children. Children can laugh all day and still c...
Because she remembered things that hurt more easily than anything nice.
They were just buying time in scrapes and tatters.