Why is it that whenever anyone says something offensive, they always add 'no offense' after it?
I waged my heart on you and lost, again and again and, but still I would do it. I could never bet on anyone else.
I tilted my head up and asked, What would you do if I kissed you right now?
I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses.
Lightning flickered through the windows that wouldn't release us and made monsters of our shadows against the wall.
I will not find peace with her. But there will be no greater passion.
I looked closely at it for the first time; the charm was just a slim line of silver - half of it hammered into the shape of a feather, the other half a dagger. It was interesting and beautiful; just like him.
Who is she? Who is this girl who would allow me to do this, here, now? And how am I allowed to have her?
But maybe someone like us will read it and they'll know they're not alone.
The eighteenth-century chapel is on the grounds of the estate, only about a half a kilometre away—its spire pierces the English Sky™ (grey, sunless, speckled with the occasional crow).
Um, I think your brother might be waving at you. That, or trying to guide a plane to safety.
You can't hurt me the way you think you can. But even if you could? I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue than live and never touch you again. I'm in love with you, Mara. I love you. No matter what you do.
I wagered my heart on her and lost, again and again, but still I would do it. I could never bet on anyone else.
I wanted to lose myself and I couldn't. I'm chasing an oblivion I will never find.
Let me guess. A certain unkempt bastard with a panty-dropping smile?
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, how could I ever love anyone else?
I put on my shoes and a big, fake smile. I laughed on the outside while I screamed on the inside. My body was in the restaurant but my mind was in hell.
Your life will not always be a happy one, but it will always have meaning.
There will come a moment when there's nothing you want more than us. Together. When you're free of every fear and there is nothing in our way.
Maybe sometimes we can only see the truth about ourselves if someone shows us where to look.
Reluctant though you may be, Noah, you are the embodiment of the Hero. You don't have to learn to become good at anything. You simply are the best at everything. Your telomeres don't stop replicating. If you aren't killed, you might actually live forever. You have every gift, Noah.
You don't get what you do for him. You're like his manic pixie dream girl or something. Jamie thought for a second. Actually, more like his psychotic demon nightmare thing, but whatever. You get my point.
Fate is bullshit. Destiny doesn't exist. If I want a happy ending, I'll have to write it myself.
Where's Noah? I asked with steel in my voice. My eyes searched the room, but there was nothing to find. Why did you tell me he was dead? Dr. Kells was reaching into a cardboard box by her feet as I spoke. Because he is.
Boys are stupid and girls are trouble. Truer words were never spoken.
I'm rather sentimental about the ruins—as a child, I halfheartedly attempted suicide there now and again, always returning from post-tourist-hours expeditions with knees winking with cuts, and the occasional fracture or two.
Do not find peace. Find passion. Find something you want to die for more than something you want to live for.
She hitches up onto the bed, her fraying denimed legs dangling from crossed knees. You know I know you like to watch.
This is what I knew: I was trapped in my body, in that bed, at that moment. But even as I looked out through the windows of my eyes, through the bars of my prison, I knew I wouldn't be trapped forever.
The first time I heard her, I never wanted to listen to anyone else.
But Noah was like the Velveteen Rabbit. I would love his whiskers off, love him until he turned gray, until he lost shape. I would love him to death. And he would let me. Gladly.
Having everyone stare and wonder what sort of hijinks your vagina's been up to isn't as thrilling as one might imagine.
Names? the receptionist asked us. Jesus, Jamie answered. Mary, said Stella. Satan, I said as I walked past her and pushed open the door to Ira Ginsberg's office.
And that for every negative event or coincidence that has happened since, imagining that you triggered them, that you made them happen makes you feel like you possess a degree of control that you don't have.
What I understand that They - most everyone, really - don't, is that suicide isn't an act of selfishness. Sometimes the hurt/pain/shame/loss is so much, so constant, and with no guarantee that it'll ever dissolve, sometimes the cost/benefit analysis of life/death truly feels like it'll only work out in favour of death.
The smell of cold, damp earth and wet layers of leaves hooks onto childhood memories and tries reeling them to the surface of my mind.
Rape is about power, not sex. It's about using force or the threat of it to take control over another person.