Truth casts a spell of its own.
What do you feel? I’ve never been asked this question once. None of us has. We aren’t supposed to feel. We’re British.
They swoon over Tom, who preens for them, bowing, which sets them to blushing and giggling. God help us all.
I am starting a collection of only right-hand gloves. It’s ever so bourgeois to have two.
There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.
But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.
Does my new feminism make me look fat?
Agent Jones held Sinjin’s face in his hands. “I’m going to make balloon animals. People need balloon animals.” “How right you are, strange delusional man,” Sinjin said.
The world is only as fair as you can make it. Takes a lot of fight. A lot of fight. But if you stay in here, in your little cave, that’s one less fighter on the side of fair.
Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life; ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ did just that, and I still do love it.
Prohibition? I drink to its health whenever I can.
Everyone’s dying. A little, every day. Make it count.
Things aren’t good or bad in and of themselves. It’s what we do with them that makes them so.
One could argue that it’s romantic to die for love. Of course, then you’re dead and unable to take that honeymoon trip to the Alps with all the other fashionable young couples, which is a shame.
There is never any turning back Gemma. You have to go forward. Make the future yours.
Feast for the Fisherman, the ultimate emo band. Said to be sold with a complimentary prescription for antidepressants and a free flatiron.
HI. I’m from Arkansas, the cantaloupe state. And tonight, I hope you will hold my melons close to your heart and vote me your Miss Teen Dream.
We don’t look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.
But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?
I’m a librarian, not an oracle.