I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must.Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.
You can never know about about your own destiny: are the people you meet there to play a part on your oun destiny, or do you exist just to play a role in theirs?
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.
I've heard it said that God is in the details. It's the same with the truth. Leave out the details, the crucial heart, and you can damn someone with the bare bones of it.
They have money and position and Ann has none.It's amazing how often you can be right as long as you have those two things working in your favor.
Maybe there’s a heaven, like they say, a place where everything we’ve ever done is noted and recorded, weighed on big karma scales. Maybe not. Maybe this whole thing is just a giant experiment run by aliens who find out human hijinks amusing. Or maybe we’re an abandoned project started by a deity who checked out a long time ago, but we’re still hard-wired to believe, to try to make meaning out of the seemingly random. Maybe we’re all part of the same unconscious stew, dreaming the same dreams, hoping the same hopes, needing the same connection, trying to find it, missing, trying again—each of us playing our parts in the other’s plotlines, just one big ball of human yarn tangled up together. Maybe this is it.
There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.
Peace is not happenstance. It is a living fire that must be fed constantly. It must be tended to with vigilance, else it dies out.
I've never been in love. I will die without knowing what it feels like to need to see one person's face when you go to sleep at night, to crave seeing it when you wake up. I wish I knew.
You can never really know someone completely. That’s why it’s the most terrifying thing in the world, really—taking someone on faith, hoping they’ll take you on faith too. It’s such a precarious balance, It’s a wonder we do it at all. And yet..
Reminds us that greatness lies even in the smallest of moments, in the humblest of hearts, and we shall, each of us, be called to greatness. Whether we shall rise to meet it or let it slip away is the challenge put before us all.
But the past cannot be changed, and we carry our choices with us, forward, into the unknown. We can only move on.
Pippa's laugh is bitter, tinged with tears. 'Ha! Why do girls think being beautiful will solve every problem? Being beautiful just creates problems. It's a misery. I wish I were someone else.
Scoring well on tests is the sort of happy thing that gets the school district the greenbacks they crave. Understanding and appreciating the material are secondary.
I've never done acid, finding it hard to go willingly to a place that could be frightening, hellish, and totally beyond my control. A place much like high school.
I'd like to thank readers. Every time you open a book, it is a strike against ignorance. Unless you're reading Sarah Palin.
You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.
We're all strangers connected by what we reveal, what we share, what we take away--our stories. I guess that's what I love about books--they are thin strands of humanity that tether us to one another for a small bit of time, that make us feel less alone or even more comfortable with our aloneness, if need be.
Her eyes take on that suspicious, wounded look girls get when they know they've fallen off the top rung of friendship and someone else has passed them, but they don't know when or how the change took place.
She dances a little jig. This would make one hell of a TV show, huh? Yeah. But no one would believe it. I should let it go. But it's like the hole, like the door, and I have to know. Or at least, I have to ask. Hey, Dulcie, was any of that real? She finishes her dance and the wings come to rest. Who's to say what's real or not? Yeah, but--my barometer on reality, not so good since I started going crazy. Yeah, well, who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?
War. Gorgon spits the word. That is what they call it to give the illusion of honor and law. It is chaos. Madness and blood and the hunger to win. It has always been thus and shall always be so.
Because 'You're perfect just the way you are,' is what your guidance counselor says. And she's an alcoholic.
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.
New Maxi-Pad Pets. Accessories for your period.Brought to you by The Corporation: In your homes andin your pants.
Really? And what curse befalls the Adams of the world?Ann opens her mouth and, presumably thinking of nothing to say, closes it again. It is Felicity who answers, eyes steely. They are weak to temptation. And we are their temptresses.