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Coming into your powers can be a very confusing time. Perhaps there is a book on the subject. If you like, we can go see Marian." Yeah, right. Choices and Changes. A Modern Girl's Guide to Casting. My Mom Wants to Kill Me: A Self-Help Book For Teens.
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The library was home away from home to my mom, and my family. We had spent every Sunday afternoon there since I was a little boy, wandering around the stacks, pulling out every book with a picture of a pirate ship, a knight, a soldier, or an astronaut. My mom used to say, "This is my church, Ethan. This is how we keep the Sabbath holy in our family.
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Nothin' wrong with havin' a cat in the house. They can see what most people can't, like the folks in the Otherworld when they cross back over - the good ones and the bad. And they get rid a mice.
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We're gonna be late for English, and I gotta take these pantyhose off on the way. I'm gettin' a serious wedgie.
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There's something about sitting alone in the dark that reminds you how big the world really is, and how far apart we all are.
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She was my destination. I was always on the way to Lena, even when I wasn't. Even when she wasn't on her way to me.
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Hey Rid?" She stopped and turned to look at him, almost ruefully. Like she couldn't help what she was any more then a shark could help being a shark, but if she could... "Yeah, Shrinky Dink?" "You're not all bad." She looked right at him and almost smiled. "You know what they say. Maybe I'm just drawn that way.
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Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be.
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Laws of physics laws of love of time and space and the (in)between place (in)between you and me and where we are lost and looking looking and lost
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She had the power to destroy. I had only seen the power to love. When you discovered both, who could figure out what to do with that?
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Exactly. They're stupid. Who cares?" "I care. They bother me. And that's why I'm stupid. That makes me exponentially more stupid than stupid. I'm stupid to the power of stupid." She waved her hand. The moon blew away. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." I looked at her out of the corner of my eye.
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Sixteen moons, Sixteen years Sixteen of your deepest fears Sixteen times you dreamed my tears Falling, Falling through the years
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I'll drive like my grandma. I'll drive like your grandma." "You wouldn't say that if you knew my gramma.
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She didn't say a work, and I gave up trying, because you couldn't hear either one of us over the shattering noise of hearts breaking and the looming shadow of the last word, the one we refused to say.
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I wanted to find a place to hide from all of it, where the nightmares and the rivers and reality couldn't find me. For me, that place was always inside a book.
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As I followed him along the sharp black stones, I could hear Link's voice in my head. "Bad move, man. He's gonna kill you, stuff you, and add you to his collection of idiots who followed him back to his creepy cave
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The one broken window that permanently wouldn't roll up had destroyed her perfectly curled blond prom-hair, and by the time we got to the gym she looked like Marie Antoinette with bedhead.
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Oblivion eyes on a cereal box, the warm blinds of a father lost and last to know lost and last to love last boy lost you can't see even a bubble once it's popped
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It was pretty obvious Lena wanted to be asked. Another mysterious thing about girls- they want to be asked to stuff even if they don't want to go.
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High school sucked. It was a universal truth, and whoever said these were supposed to be the best years of your life was probably drunk or delusional.
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Until then, you can do what everyone else your age does. Listen to music. Watch the television. Just keep your nose away from those books.
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we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers
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Here’s the million-dollar question: how are you going to write this book if you’re afraid to start writing? Give your friend Doubt a name, and then block his calls.
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My mom was there, in some form, in some sense, in some universe. My mom was still my mom, even if she only lived in books and door locks and the smell of fried tomatoes and old paper. She lived.