Not knowing you can't do something, is sometimes all it takes to do it.
She'd absolutely adored the library_an entire building where anyone could take things they didn't own and feel no remorse about it.
I don’t understand hate. I’ve seen its power. I’ve known its wrath. I’ve even felt it coursing through my veins, pushing me on. But I don’t know where it comes from or why it lasts, how it can take hold in some people and grow.
Acting like you don’t care is a whole lot easier when you don’t care
The older I got, the smarter my teachers became.
Your memory is your first and best weapon, ladies. Learn to use it.
What are you looking at? Hale asked. Why are you smiling? I worry when you smile.
It is an occupational hazard that anyone who has spent her life learning how to lie eventually becomes bad at telling the truth.
Because even though the truth can set you free, that doesn't mean it won't be painful.
So I stepped away, reminding myself that when you're a spy, sometimes all you can do is go on. One foot in front of the other, wherever the narrow path might lead.
Sometimes it takes an outsider, someone with fresh eyes to see the truth.
Denying the undeniable just makes you sound like a fool as well as a liar.
Even the best thief in the world can't steal time.
It’s the people you hold closest who have the most power to make you bleed.
It was epic. It was awkward. It was epically awkward.
...nothing ever happens quickly (except when it does). Nothing is ever, ever easy (except when it is). And, most of all, nothing ever goes perfectly according to plan (except in the movies).
Zach walked away, but I stood there for a long time, wondering if I should go to my mother; if I should go to my friends; but instead I slipped into the corridors I hadn't used in months, pushed my way through cobwebs and darkness, trying to walk away from the tears that burned hot down my cheeks, because maybe I didn't want to admit weakness; maybe I wanted to wallow in my solitude and grief. Or maybe crying is like everything else we do—it's best if you don't get caught.
Sometimes the biggest lies we tell are to ourselves.
Pretend and it will be true.
And yet, she knew she could be.
Ooh, the silent treatment.
Like many authors, I caught the writing bug during my teenage years. I don't remember the exact day or year, but I remember that reading S.E. Hinton's 'The Outsiders' sparked my interest in writing.
I never knew there were this many stars." "I can't see them," he told me. "I just see you." "That's one of your cheesier lines," I told him. "It's the altitude," he told me. "I don't have enough oxygen in my brain." "I see.
Don't believe everything you read. It's very difficult to be accepting of our own bodies. This topic deserves it's own book, but since I'm not qualified to write it, I won't. Instead I'll just say this: The pictures staring out at you from the supermarket checkout stands, the images we are all supposed to aspire to? They lie
Oh, and Cammie," At the sounds of his voice, I spun around, expecting to hear him crack a joke or call me Gallagher Girl. The last thing I expected was to feel his arms sliding arounds me, to sense the whole world turning upside down as Zach dipped me in the middle of the foyer and pressed his lips to mine. Then he smiled that smile I'd come to know. "I always finish what I start.
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