Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.
What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible.
Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy,” Wren said. “It’s the noblest, like, the most courageous thing two people can shoot for.
The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.
She smiled, and her eyes started to drift downward. Cather... Back up to his eyes.You know that I'm falling in love with you, right?
It was the nicest thing she could imagine. It made her want to have his babies and give him both of her kidneys.
What you are is a fucking tragedy, Simon Snow. You literally couldn't be a bigger mess.He tries to kiss me, but I pull back- And you like that?I love it. He saysWhy?Because we match.
Can't you just like a girl who likes you back?''None of them likes me back. I may as well like the one I really want.
I let myself slip away... Just to stay sane. Just to get through it. And when I felt myself slipping too far, I held on to the one thing I'm always sure of - Blue eyes. Bronze curls. The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me. That Simon Snow is alive. And I'm hopelessly in love with him.
You don't know when you're twenty-three.You don't know what it really means to crawl into someone else's life and stay there. You can't see all the ways you're going to get tangled, how you're going to bond skin to skin. How the idea of separating will feel in five years, in ten - in fifteen. When Georgie thought about divorce now, she imagined lying side by side with Neal on two operating tables while a team of doctors tried to unthread their vascular systems.She didn't know at twenty-three.
You think that holding someone hard will bring them closer. You think that you can hold them so hard that you'll still feel them, embossed on you, when you pull away.Every time Eleanor pulled away from Park, she felt the gasping loss of him.
You think I'm cute? He said thinkly, pulling on her hand.She was glad he couldn't see her face. I think you're...Beautiful. Breathtaking. Like the person in a Greek myth who makes one of the gods stop caring about being a god.
She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet.If she showed him how much she needed him, he'd run away.
I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to start this day because then I'll just be expected to finish it.
Don't bite his face, Eleanor told herself. It's disturbing and needy and never happens in situation comedies or movies that end with big kisses.
Maybe we should go on lots of double dates,” Cath said, “and then we can get married on the same day in a double ceremony, in matching dresses, and the four of us will light the unity candle all at the same time.”“Pfft,” Levi said, “I’m picking out my own dress.
Well,” she said. “I’m frustrated.”“Don’t make me angry-kiss you.”“Give me the laundry.”“Tempers rising, faces flushed … This is how it happens.
I really am happy for Kiley. And for you and every other happily married lady. Except for that I'm not happy for you. I kind of want you all to drop dead.
There's no reason to think we're going to stop loving each other,' he said. 'And there's every reason to think that we won't.
There's only one of him, she thought, and he's right here.He knows I'll like a song before I've heard it. He laughs before I even get to the punch line. There's a place on his chest, just below his throat, that makes me want to let him open doors for me.There's only one of him.
When she opened her door, Levi was sitting in the hallway, his legs bent in front of him, hunched forward on his knees. He looked up when she stepped out.“I’m such an idiot,” he said.Cath fell between his knees and hugged him.“I can’t believe I said that,” he said. “I can’t even go nine hours without seeing you.
I'm ending this.''No. Come on. It's not worth it.''You are,' he said fiercely, looking at her.'You're worth it.
Parfois, écrire se rapproche de la chute libre : vos doigts s'agitent sur le clavier comme vos jambes dans le vide.
Sometimes writing is running downhill, your fingers jerking behind you on the keyboard the way your legs do when they can’t quite keep up with gravity.
The professor leaned forward. “But there’s nothing more profound than creating something out of nothing.” Her lovely face turned fierce. “Think about it Cath. That’s what makes a god—or a mother. There’s nothing more intoxicating than creating something from nothing. Creating something from yourself.
When I’m writing my own stuff, it’s like swimming upstream. Or … falling down a cliff and grabbing at branches, trying to invent the branches as I fall.
This is new to us, you know? Your mother's sorry. She's sorry that she hurt your feelings, and she wants you to invite your girlfriend over for dinner.So that she can make her feel bad and weird?Well she is kind of weird, isn't she?Park didn't have the energy to be angry. He sighed and let his head fall back on the chair. His dad kept talking. Isn't that why you like her?
I believe that worrying about a bad thing prepares you for it when it comes. If you worry, the bad thing doesn't hit you as hard. You can roll with the punch if you see it coming.
Months are different in college, especially freshman year. Too much happens. Every freshman month equals six regular months—they're like dog months.