You have to prove to New York that you really want to live here.
Yeah, well. They’re more like ‘Keep Out’ signs, or ‘Keep In,’ I guess—as in keeping you guys in your place. The world goes on for a whole lot farther, trust me. This is just a trick to keep you from k...
Wow, came a familiar voice, Hypochondriac killed the cat. -Dess
Wisdom tells me i'm nothing, love tells me I'm everything.
Wisdom tells me I’m nothing. But love tells me I’m everything.
Why are you still wearing...? Aya began. Oh, that's not smart plastic? You're really an ugly?David rolled his eyes and Shay said quietly, David's never had any surge at all. But I wouldn't use the wor...
When Tally glanced out at the glowing horizon, her eyes opened wide. She’d never seen dawn from outside the city before. Like most uglies, she was rarely up early enough, and in any case the horizon w...
This beauty would remain whether he was here to see it or not.
There was something magic in their large perfect eyes, something that made you pay attention
There are probably a dozen perfect happy endings you could write. And a thousand bittersweet ones, and at least a million that are gloriously tragic. Alas, you only get to pick one.
The word happy had started to sound wrong in Darcy’s head, like a random collection of Scrabble letters. What about
The whole idea that he could take what he wanted without affecting anyone was bull****.
The stitches in my forehead itched, loud noises made me jump, and I’d been wearing the same socks for three days in a row. Everyone
The moment her feet touched the floor, a chill ran up her spine. She was standing on her sweatshirt, which lay next to her bed in a crumpled pile. It was soaking wet.
The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit.
That was one problem with dramatic exits: Sometimes they wound up making you look like a bubblehead.
Tally snorted. I don’t think it’s exactly boring, Shay. Doing what you’re supposed to do is always boring. I can’t imagine anything worse than being required to have fun. I can, Tally said quietly. Ne...
She would find her answers in the words she wrote, in the stories she told, not by asking for permission.
Shay’s eyes flashed. Or maybe when they do the operation—when they grind and stretch your bones to the right shape, peel off your face and rub all your skin away, and stick in plastic cheekbones so yo...
Real life doesn’t have many happy endings. Why shouldn’t books make up the difference?