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After all with me & Marshall, it had never been about words or conversation, where there was too much to be risked or lost. Here, though, in the quiet pressed against each other, this felt familiar to me. And it was nice to let someone get close again, even if it was just for a little while.
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Doesn't it seem sometimes that the whole world's uphill but at least we know the way back will be easy.
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You just looked..." she said, searching for the word, "taken, you know? Plus you hardly reacted to Wes. I mean, you did alittle, but nothing like most girls. It was a little swoon. Not a sa-woon, you know?" I said, "Sa-woon? Oh, come on," she said shaking her head. "Even a blind girl could tell he is amazing.
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Life is long. Just because you don't get your chance right when you want or expect it doesn't mean it won't come. Fate doesn't punch a time clock or consult a schedule.
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Oh for God's sake,' Heather said, 'I wish you two would just go out, fail miserably as a couple, and get it over with.
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We were willing to do so much for the people we loved, even if it meant hurting ourselves. Maybe that, in the end, was what love- all kinds- was really about.
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None of it meant anything, and all of it was important.
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I trailed off and he didn't push me to finish. I was finding that I liked that.
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Two a.m.' He swallowed, then said, "You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what, you can count on them. Even if they're asleep or it's cold or you need to be bailed out of jail...they'll come for you. It's like, the highest level of friendship.
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Оne word could change the whole world.
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Nah," I said. "But if it does, just tell him I said to get back on the bike." "What?" "He'll understand.
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If this was my instinct talking, I didn‟t want to hear what it was saying.
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Because this is what happens when you try to run from the past. It just doesn’t catch up, it overtakes … blotting out the future.
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Teenagers are a great audience and they are fearless about asking what they want to know.
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The world is speaking to you every day, you just don't know how to listen.
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That was the nice thing about the Spot: you could hear everything, but no one could see you.
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Say what you will, but you’re never prepared for the surprise attack.
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Now, now," my father said. "Let's just get the bags." This was typical. My father, the lone male in our estrogen-heavy household, had always dealt with any kind of emotional situation or conflict by doing something concrete and specific. Discussion of cramps and heavy flow at the breakfast table? He was up and out the door to change oil on one of our cars. Coming home in tears for reasons you just didn't want to discuss? He'd go make you a grilled cheese, which he'd probably end up eating. Family crisis brewing in a public place? Bags. Get the bags.
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There's a kind of radar that you get, after years of being talked about and made fun of by other people. You can almost smell it when it's about to happen, can recognize instantly the sound of a hushed voice, lowered just enough to make whatever is said okay. I had only been in Colby for a few weeks. But I had not forgotten.
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Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.
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The silence wasn't like the ones I'd known lately, though: it wasn't empty as much as chosen. There's a entirely different feel to quiet when you're with some-one else, and at any moment it could be broken. Like the difference between a pause and an ending.
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You’re always a kid around your parents… Unless they’re acting like children. Then you don’t get the chance.
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Pretend to be a delinquent?" I asked clarifying. "You can do it," Dave advised me. "Just don't smile, and try to look like you're considering stealing something.
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And the rest is history,' I said. Nah.' He shook his head. 'The rest is now.