We think of happiness as something we can take. But usually it comes from being content with what we have, and accepting ourselves.
So I'm in love. That crazy, forget to eat, float around in a daze, talk on the phone all night and bounce out of bed every morning hoping to see him kind of love.
Come on, pretty boy,” he taunts. “Show me what you’ve got.
Clara,” he says, my name sounding different somehow when it passes through his lips. “I’ll miss you.
A string of very un-angelic curse words come to mind.
He’s waiting. He’s still waiting. He’s given up everything for me. His entire life. His future. Everything, because he wants to keep me safe. Because he believes, in his heart, that he’s my purpose and I’m his.
A light comes on in his eyes. “Sure, why not? A date with Queen Elizabeth.” He smiles.
I don’t particularly want Kay to be a good person. I’m perfectly comfortable thinking about her as the wicked witch.
You aren’t being sent on a mission that you don’t have the power to accomplish. You have to find that power inside you somewhere, and you have to refine it. You were made for this purpose...
Sanity is overrated.
My mother always says that love is like a snakebite, a venom slowly spreading through your veins.
Everything was falling into place. And out of place, at the same time.
I see something like fear on his face. What if I’m an alien invader trying to lure him to a secluded place so I can suck his brains out? Or a vampire, ravenous for his blood?
Angela’s in love with an angel.
He’s hot. He knows he’s hot. I am taken. He knows I am taken.
I’ve seen the future all my life,′ she says. ‘It tends to work as a paradox, in my experience. You find out something is going to happen, and then you do it because you know that’s what happens. It’s a chicken-or-the-egg scenario.
So with my luck, I’ll never make it in time to save the boy in the forest because my hair will have snagged on a tree branch a mile back.
I mean, what good is a women’s lib if we can’t use it to ask guys to dances?
Haven’t you guessed by now? I say, my heart hammering. My home is you.
The look that passes between Jeffrey and Kimber right then feels like it requires a swell of cheesy music in the background. Aw, I think. Baby brother’s in love. I also find this kind of gross.
Time passes. That’s the rule. No matter what happens, no matter how much it might feel like everything in your life has been frozen around one particular moment, time marches on.