Beth Revis Quotes
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And here we are, in the middle, surrounded by a sea of stars. A million suns. Any of them could hold a planet. Any of them could hold a home. But all of them are out of reach.
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Words are powerful things. They can start—or end—wars. People believe in words. They are the fundamental expression of ourselves, the division between human and not, the means by which we learn. And while people use words to teach, to express art, to proclaim truths, at the most basic level, people use words to simply say: I am here.
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You can burn fear away after every nightmare you've ever had comes true.
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I think his chutz is up, don't you?
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It Will be better to die quickly with only the taste of freedom on our lips than to live long lives pretending not to see the walls that imprison us.
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A few months ago, I would have thrown this book down in disgust and walked away—maybe even returned home, where the only books I knew reminded me of my father. But now… My fingers wrapped around the spine of the book. Now I was willing to try anything.
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Well, sometimes home is a person.
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Maybe I'm reading too much into this. It's probably nothing. But I've had "nothing" for too long, and I'm ready for something. Anything.
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But how can I be disappointed in space?
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I can think of no better way to meet a girl than to see her through the eyes of the story she loves best.
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Holding Amy against me, I realize the simple truth is that power isn't control at all - power is strength, and giving that strength to others.
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When I look at the fields, all I can see is how fake they are, how poor an imitation they are of the pictures of Sol-Earth fields. And that's why I'll never be as good an Eldest as he is. Because I like a little chaos.
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The truth is, sometimes siblings have nothing in common but blood...Sometimes you stay up late at night, thinking things that make you feel like a heartless monster, wishing for something different and then feeling sick with guilt because you know what the cost of "different" would be...There's a difference between having no siblings and having a broken one.
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Why wouldn’t it be the government? It’s not like we have a perfectly operational terrorist group right here to do it.
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More than the sound of my own beating heart, I miss the sound of a ticking clock. Time passes, it must pass, but I have no more assurance of moving through time than I have that I am moving through space. In a way, I’m glad: this means perhaps 300 years and 364 days have passed, and tomorrow I will wake up. Sometimes after a cross-country meet or a long day at school, I’d fall into bed with all my clothes on and be out before I knew it. When I’d finally open my eyes, it would feel like I’d just shut them for a minute, but really, the whole rest of the day and half the night was gone. But. There were other times when I’d collapse onto my mattress, shut my eyes and dream, and it felt like I’d lived a whole lifetime in that dream, but when I woke up, it had only been a few minutes. What if only a year has gone by? What if we haven’t even left yet? That is my greatest fear.
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I can't be the kind of leader you want me to. I will never, ever be the kind of leader you want me to be. And I will be better because of it.
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The three hardest parts of writing a novel are writing the beginning, the middle, and the end.
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It's not knowing that's killing me. Not knowing if there's a chance that something can change, not knowing if there's hope at all.
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I shut my eyes, and I force myself to feel myself. You never really think of what it’s like to be in your body, but even with my eyes shut, I can feel the boundaries of my skin, real or not. Everything that’s me is contained inside this body, and I feel it all. The heartbeat I cannot control. The mind that may not be mine. I am here, in this moment, in this body. All that I am—maybe not all that I ever was, but all that I currently am—is right here.
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We are, at least in part, who we remember ourselves to be. Take away our memories, and you take away our selves.
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It was to apologize, and apologizing means he remembers what happened, and that means being trapped in a nightmare that’s already come true.
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But, really, grief left a hole in you, and while you healed around the hole, you never didn't have it. A piece of you was gone. You couldn't heal something that wasn't there.
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I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.
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I lean closer to him, so close I can smell his skin, and when I speak, I can see how the little hairs near his ear move with my breath. "I also want you to know that I won't kill you right away. But that you'll wish I had.