That is what Alex is now: a shadow-boy
I was glad when the invalids were executed
The kidnapping, the kiss. I brought him here, after all. I rescue him an pulled him into this new life, a life of freedom and feeling.
In one of the tents, Julian is sleeping. And in another: Alex
There were days I asked for it-prayed for it when I went to sleep. The belief that I would see you again, that I could find you-the hope for it-was the only thing that kept me going.
Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.
The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
I don't know how i stay on my feet, why i don;t just shatter into dust right there, why my heart keeps beating when i want it so badly to stop
You must hurt, or be hurt.
The first time I saw you, at the Governor, I handn't been to watch the birds at the border in years. But that's what you reminded me of. You were jumping up, and you were yelling something, and your hair was coming loose from your ponytail, and you were so fast..." He shakes his head. "Just a flash, and then you were gone, Exactly like a bird.
When he speaks again, I can tell that he's smiling. "So I guess we saved each other.
I am growing stronger. I am a stone being excavated by the slow passage of water; I am wood charred by a fire.
I'm not ugly but I'm not pretty either. Everything is in-between. I have eyes that aren't green or brown, but a muddle. I'm not thin but I'm not fat either. the only thing you could definitely say about me is that: I'm short
It won't matter if nobody ever thinks I'm pretty (although sometimes I wish, just for a second, that somebody would)
Sometimes I think maybe they were right all along, the people on the other side in Zombieland. Maybe it would be better if we didn't love. If we didn't lose either. If we didn't get our hearts stomped on, shattered: if we didn't have to patch and repatch until we're like Frankenstein monsters, all sewn together and bound up by who knows what. If we could just float along, like snow. But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosions of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?
And even though I'm standing in the middle of the biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, I suddenly feel very alone.
Alex is dead, do you hear me? All of that-what we felt, what it meant- that's done now, okay? Buried. Blown away.
He was still in love with you, anyway.
The old Lena is dead.
I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
The Story of Solomon is the only way I know how to explain. And then, in smaller letters: Forgive me.
Over the past week, I’ve accepted that I will never love Julian as much as I loved Alex. But now that idea is overwhelming, like a wall between us. I will never love Julian like I love Alex.
I’m not the Hana everyone told me I would be after my cure.
I can admit, now, that I must have loved Lena. Not in an Unnatural way, but my feelings for her must have been a kind of sickness. How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?
This is the language of the world before—a world of chaos and confusion and happiness and despair—before the blitz turned streets to grids, cities to prisons, and hearts to dust.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: