Thomas closes the gap between us and kisses me. Hard. This is not wet and sloppy like his playful kisses. Or dry and desperate like Percy's. Or teasing like the king's.No. This kiss is eloquent and alive and speaks direcetly to my soul. My heart ruptures, and the spliters freeze and tumble all around us with the musical sound of broken glass.
Well that’s open to debate,’ he said. 'It sounds like a recipe for disaster to me, and I hate the thought of you throwing yourself at guys just to try and get laid. Christ, I’d do you myself if I thought it would keep you safe.’‘Now that’s true friendship,’ I said, cracking under the severity of his tone.
Before long, everyone was giving him answers, and feeling a little superior, because it was really remarkable the number of things Chrestomanci seemed not to know. He had heard of Hitler, though he asked Brian to refresh his memory about him, but he had only the haziest notion about Gandhi or Einstein, and he had never heard of Walt Disney or reggae.
It doesn't matter if it's the real world or fictional," I insisted. "Crushes are the best part of liking someone, and they are completely safe. You get all the benefits of fantasising about someone, but none of the he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not drama. It's all the good parts with none of the parts that make you lie awake at night all angsty.
A true leader is not meant to be greeted with unanimous praise by his people. A leader is meant to be questioned, to be suspect, to be hated. If he is not, then one can easily assume that either he has not challenged his abilities as a leader by making a decision that creates a split between the people, or he is forcing his subjects to bow before him.
In no mood for one of her silly games, I snatched it off her and scanned the page. It turned out to be a list of names, all of them boys, and some of whom I recognised. And then I noticed the title: ‘Operation: Popping the Cherry’. I leaped to my feet and fired a glare at each of them in turn, trying not to shout. ‘Are you shitting me?
In one blow, that dream died as they dragged me—him—away. A tear slid down my cheek. I wasn't the only one mourning the loss of a dream. "I'm sorry." 'You're not alone, I just wanted you to know that. And someday, when I have my powers back and am free, I'm going to do some serious damage to the people who've hurt you.
I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours.Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...
The festive music died down and the granite pillars were replaced with rotted wooden beams as he continued down the alleyways. The scent of fresh flowers turned to mold, and the colorful mosiacs of honor and nobility were nonexistent. Run-down tenements were shadowed by its surrounding buildings, as if the capital itself wanted to conceal its existence.
Sometimes books feel like the only thing that keep her sane. Actually, she knows that they're the only reason she's still even vaguely okay right now. That's what she clings to: reading great books and seeing great films and, for as long as she's immersed in them, being able to forget, if only for a short time, about the reality of her life.
Everyone says your first time should be magical. You should be in love. You should feel safe. Because you can't go back once you've done it. That will always be your first time. Years later this is what I'll remember as my first time. That inflated sensation is long gone. Now I just feel nauseous; its the feeling I get when reality dawns.
Now I am their sword. And I do not forgive. I do not forget. So let him lead me onto his shuttle. Let him think he owns me. Let him welcome into his house, so I might burn it down. But then his daughter takes my hand, and I feel all the lies fall heavy on my shoulders. They say a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. They made no mention of the heart.
I see now that dismissing YA books because you’re not a young adult is a little bit like refusing to watch thrillers on the grounds that you’re not a policeman or a dangerous criminal, and as a consequence, I’ve discovered a previously ignored room at the back of the bookstore that’s filled with masterpieces I’ve never heard of.
Alex and Carlos—the tag team from hell. They’re the last people I need shit from right now. If they decide to trail me, too, I’ll have an entire entourage.“I’m fine.”“Then sit up and talk to us.”“Okay, in that case I’m not fine. Go away.” I moan. “Unless you want me to puke all over you.
O, het was makkelijk om dingen op te geven en te beweren dat je vrij van de wereld was, gemakkelijk om kleine irritaties te vergeven en jezelf op de borst te kloppen, omdat je je verbeelde iets over mensen te weten.Maar dat het gemakkelijk was, betekende alleen dat je nog nooit iets van waarde opgegeven had, dat je nog nooit werkelijk op de proef gesteld was.
