Age-appropriate makeup? Who are you people? What makeup is age-appropriate for a seven-year-old?
Sometimes everyone does the right thing and there's still a mess left to clean up. Someone has to take responsibility for it.
I grabbed Aunt Prue's tiny hand, her fingers as small as bare twigs in winter. I closed my eyes and took her other hand, twisting my strong fingers together with her frail ones. I rested my forehead against our hands and closed my eyes. I imagined lifting my head up and seeing her smiling, the tape and tubes gone. I wondered if wishing was the same thing as praying. If hoping for something badly enough could make it happen.
Nobody the dead man & Nobody the living Nobody is giving in & Nobody is giving Nobody hears me but just Nobody cares Nobody fears me but Nobody just stares Nobody belongs to me & Nobody remains No Nobody knows nothing All that remains are remains
She had the power to destroy. I had only seen the power to love. When you discovered both, who could figure out what to do with that?
Exactly. They're stupid. Who cares?" "I care. They bother me. And that's why I'm stupid. That makes me exponentially more stupid than stupid. I'm stupid to the power of stupid." She waved her hand. The moon blew away. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." I looked at her out of the corner of my eye.
Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn't have to. "You know, it's not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.
Sharpie? A mischievous smile spread across her face. I thought you said you couldn't control your powers. Beginner's luck.
Arelia looked up at Macon. "It's not the house that protects her. It's the boy. I've never seen anything like it. No Caster can come between them.
Power is neither good nor evil.
I'd never really thought past the whole dying-for-the-sake-of-the-world part of things. When you're alive, you don't dwell on how you're going to spend your time once you're dead. You just figure you're gone, and the rest will pretty much take care of itself.
Was it worth it? Feeling better for a minute or two, knowing that the cold would still be out there waiting?
Was it really so far-fetched to think that words had a way of shaping a person's whole life?
They shouldn't call death passing on. They should call it leveling up. Because the game only got harder once I lost. And I was more than a little worried it had only just begun.
It was all so clear now. Like everything had been lost in darkness, and then the sun came out. Some moments are like that.
It wasn't about how she looked, which was pretty, even though she was always wearing the wrong clothes and those beat-up sneakers. It wasn't about what she said in class--usually something no one else would've thought of, and if they had, something they wouldn't have dared to say. It wasn't that she was different from all the other girls at Jackson. That was obvious. It was that she made me realize how much I was just like the rest of them, even if I wanted to pretend I wasn't.
Aw, come on. I barely speak English, unless we're talking about the Lowcountry kind.
we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers
I smiled at her, but she was already lost in thought, looking around the library as if it held all the answers to all our problems.
Your bird drinks whiskey and eats tobacco?" The old man frowned."Just be lad he doesn't like eatin' scrawny boys that don't know their way 'round the Otherworld.
Oblivion eyes on a cereal box, the warm blinds of a father lost and last to know lost and last to love last boy lost you can't see even a bubble once it's popped
red plastic rain her tears stain
bent like the branches of a tree broken like the pieces of my heart cracked like the seventeenth moon shattered like the glass in the window the day we met
In death, lie. In living, cry. Carry me home to remember to be remembered.
There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt-it meant something. Maybe there isn't a meaning to life. Maybe there's only a meaning to living. That's what I've learned. That's what I'm going to be doing from now on. Living. And loving, as sappy as it sounds
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