Life can be like walking on a high wire. Falling seems a tiny misstep away.
Love between two people can last a long time if the people love themselves some, and are ready to give love to another person.
Pain is a message, and you can choose to ignore that message.
I knew how good love could be – I knew it was the best thing I’d ever done in my life – and yet here I was alone. I was taking chances with my life. I kept telling everybody that I was all right, but I wasn’t.
What are you guys doing? If you anted me to take a shower, all you had to do was pay me ten bucks, like you usually do.
It gets so tiring, this strong-picking-on-the-weak stuff. It was the story of my life -literally- and it seemed to be a big part of the outside world too. I was sick of it, sick of guys like these, stupid and bullying.
Max-Dogs, dogs, go away, let me live another day.
Max-I’m not going to die today.
Are you fangalicious? -Jess, a random blogger I could never be as fangalicious as you’d want me to be.-Fang.
What kind of thoughtless creep would burn a book?
Plus her mom was so awesome. She was strict about some things – don’t leave your socks lying around – but so not strict about other things, like calling the cops about my bullet wound.
How could you stop loving me?
Reading is not work, not a chore, not a drudgery; reading is the most joyful thing, yet, in the world.
I looked around. As flock leader, everyone was expecting me to make a decision. Jeb’s presence here would bring uncertainty, chaos, probably danger. It would perk up my day.
Some kids get called ‘bundles of joy’ or ‘slices of heaven’ or ‘dreams come true.’ We got ‘the fifty-fourth generation of DNA experiments.’ Doesn’t have the same warm and fuzzy feel. But maybe I’m oversensitive.
I had to give him props, but how annoying of him to be a hero when I was trying so hard to dislike him. It was downright selfish.
Listen, street punk. You’re a guy, and you’re a couple inches taller, and maybe forty pounds heavier, and ooh, you’re in a gang. But I’ve survived ten years of Catholic school, and I will cut you off at your knees without a blink. Do you understand?
Gazzy sniffed the air. “That’s explosives. It smells like Christmas!” Okay, so we’ve had somewhat untraditional Christmases. With explosives.
We try not to encourage demonstrations of his mastery of the gaseous arts.
Advice: Don’t wait until someone you have issues with – especially someone you’re related to – gets shot before you work it out.