You know, Roland and I were just talking about how we don’t have any pyromaniac friends. And everyone knows you need a good pyro to pull off any reform school prank worth the effort.
Oh. My. God. They were fighting. In the library. Over her.
Silence is what causes most of humanity’s problems.
The last thing we expect others to do, its the last thing they do before we learn we cannot trust them.
Love was a dance floor where everyone you loved left a mark behind.
There is no darkness as dark as a great light corrupted.
Had God created Love to make pain feel even worse?
We put our faith in love.
Mortality is the most romantic story ever told. Just one chance to do everything you should. Then, magically, you move on.
But you were only sixteen and not far off from the truth, as only sixteen-year-olds can be.
She knew she shouldn’t want him with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t help herself. Gazing at him feeling his touch – the rest of the world faded into the background.
Friendship, Roland realized, was its very own kind of love.
You have to stop loving me. Because I stopped loving you.
The past is important for all the information and wisdom it holds. But you can get lost in it. You’ve got to learn to keep the knowledge of the past with you as you pursue the present.
I hope that I live for a thousand years, and have a thousand daughters so that there will always be a woman who can curse your name.
What you call love does not sound very beautiful.
And she knew without opening her eyes that it was Daniel. No other body in the universe fit hers so well.
Would he find her? Without question. Would he save her? Always.
She had sand in her mouth and between her toes, the briny wind raising goose bumps on her skin, and the sweetest, spellbound feeling spilling from her heart. She could, at that moment, have died for him.
She buried her face in his shoulder. And while the truth still scared her, being in his arms made her feel like the sea finding its shore, like a traveler returning after a long, hard, distant trip – finally returning home.