Ya Quotes - Page 8

Oh, oh, oh being a soldier... I remember that day... and that time.. and some moments.. I am still confused... as a soldier you could kill first somebody without a reason with soldier way string from piano... as a second... we use codes likePanda on Black... Black and white... Over the Game... Game the Shit... and many others what do they mean!?!?- Ohhhhh... you don't want to know, do ya???

Nolan was the only one who knew the real Lexi Shaw, and that was exactly how I intended to keep it.

Susie and Pippa clinked their glasses together. I followed suit, but my heart wasn't in it anymore. It had already left the building.

“Alright, who’s first?” Crystal asked once Carrie was in the chair that she had instructed her to sit in. Everyone was quiet. “Who wants to draw straws?” Matt asked. Carrie hadn’t realized until this moment that the subtle smile on his face never faded. It was as though he found humor in everything that was going on. Will slowly raised his hand, his other hand was left shoved in the pocket of his blue jeans, “I’ll do it.”

Kevin looks at me and I know he isn’t seeing the little girl I use to be, all pigtails and gangly limbs. He isn’t seeing my mother’s daughter or even my mother anymore. As his eyes linger over me, stopping here and there in the most uncomfortable places, I know he isn’t really even seeing me as I am. The bloodshot eyes staring out of the alcohol-flushed face are seeing a girl, nearly of age, who owes him a tremendous debt of gratitude.--Rocky Evans

Even now I ask myself, what would have happened if I had gone to the cove with Tansy that Thursday afternoon, instead of going to the beach? If I had stayed away from the boat at the jetty, hidden from sight? If I had thrown the pearl back in the sea at the first opportunity when I had seen the look in Rammell’s eyes? But then I reason that it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. The Fates had spun my destiny, and I was tight roping along the threads that tangled in the sky, regardless of the drop below.

All it takes is one small voice to make a difference." ~Artum Keogh~

Once bitten, totally smitten.

And when whatever happened in that barn happened, it was a moment I’ll never forget. Like a missing key slid into a dusty old lock. Click. My world opened.

Because I know you live on the hope of seeing a better tomorrow, unlike the skeptics who have nothing to live for today. I would rather die with hope, than to live without any hope at all.

I know he sees it, because for the briefest moment he drops his expressionless mask and the look in his eyes shows me he feels the same way. A mirror of every part of myself I can't bear to face.

Then I flipped my hair across his face and said, "Do you like my hair, baby? It's Winterfresh, like a mountain spring.

Here's to real heroes, not the ones who carry us off into the sunset but the ones who help us choose our princes." - commentary on Castles on the Sand

...She squeezed Niall's hand and bleakly said, "I don't want you hurt.""Oh, Serena, that's all I have to know." And with that, he kissed her so passionately, she felt as though she had fae transported to the moon and back...

This night felt like a last hurrah, like we could blaze our brightest, at the apex of our insane adolescence. This was our Mardi Gras before the dark days of Lent.

She opens her eyes as the fury continues, pinning me with her glare. Her gaze reached into my soul as I spin the music back to the simple melody at its core—our melody. A moment of recognition washes over her, followed by regret, fear, terror. An entire kaleidoscope of emotions exists within a single heartbeat.

Even though Marcus really believed some miracle would happen, he didn't waste a second." He gave a sad, lopsided smile. "So I learned this from my dying brother. Don't waste it.""Waste what?" she whispered.He looked at her for a long time. "Everything that makes you.

Her hands crept around his neck, tangling in his hair to keep him closer, even though she knew that beautiful boys with expiration dates couldn't be held, only borrowed for a time.

The only way, I thought to myself, that this could get any weirder would be if it turns out he has that dead body's head on ice where in the basement, some ready for transplantation onto Cindy Crawford's body as soon as it becomes available.

Do you know how hard it is to paint kindness?” She leaned her hip against a desk in the corner of the room, still watching me. “It’s the only part of a person I really want to capture. Everything else seems to get lost in layers of deception or defensiveness. But not kindness. You can’t hide it. And people either are or they aren’t.

You’ve never had someone you love snatched,” I shot back, annoyed by her ignorance. “Any sense of safety kind of bites it after that. You watch your back because no one else can.

No sign of Marissa yet though I heard her clunking around in the bathroom so she was probably doing whatever girls do to make themselves presentable. Poor things. It didn't take any time at all for us guys to rejoin the world and still be our handsome selves.

Effie Seabright, we’ve been fated to meet you for a long time.

So much of what people believe makes no sense, Wylie.

The same beautiful receptionist greeted Christian who had met him before and she extended the same lush invitation as she had the last time. Victoria's eyes narrowed and Christian chuckled under his breath at her jealousy."Relax chérie, she's paid to do that." "Well, she didn't come on to me, so obviously she's not doing her job properly," Victoria said. Christian laughed.

Sometimes Truth cannot be silenced.

He wishes he could remember everything. Anything. He doesn’t sense a bone in his body that can feel compassion or worthiness. Self-pity hides away as well, the lowest form of emotion not even capable of resting in his wrecked mind.

Hate is a lot like love. It's warm and fills you up until every part of you is tingling to release it.

Gabe realized he was standing there alone, with a goofy smile on his face. Limping inside, he closed the door behind him, her words still lingering in his mind. Gabe wanted more than anything to be able to choose happiness. He wanted a rain storm to make him smile. He desired that the simple task of cooking would make him dance. To Gabe, however, it didn’t seem as simple as just making a choice. He hoped her joy was contagious, because he was in uncharted territories.

I mean if there was any justice in the world you wouldn't even have to go to school during your period. You'd just stay home for five days and eat chocolate and cry.

He knew she loved him in that moment. Gabe never wanted to be part of the holy fight, but now he was, he was not about to lose.

Believe me, I’ve lived long enough to know that no matter how stable a life may seem, there’s always something that can change all of that in a blink of an eye.

I do like the way people behave toward me and Theresa when we’re together-everyone’s voice changes to music, and we get all sorts of smiles.

If we don't fight, we've already lost. Without hope, without trying, there's no point.

Quit worrying so much about the boards and nails of your life. Focus on the stuff that lasts.” He glanced through the window toward the glowing light of the kitchen where Meg and my mom were laughing about something.

She looked at him and felt a dagger pierce her heart, then she felt a warm chocolate feeling swallow her senses.

As he carefully made his way back to the stairs and awkwardly turned off the light, he did not notice that the dark shadow he had assumed was his reflection remained in the mirror. He didn’t see the hands press against the surface and make large, liquid-like bulges beneath the glass. Nor did he hear the whispers that so suddenly and violently filled the dark, cluttered space as he had closed and locked the heavy attic door. ~ "The Mirror

I am wilderness and madness made flesh. You are just a girl" –he smiled, and the tips of his teeth were sharp–"and I am the wolf in the woods.

Freedom is a state of mind.

I dropped my bag to the floor and the sound echoed throughout the house. No one shouted, "who's home?" or "Cassie? Is that you?". Instead the house gobbled up the sound as if it didn't know when the next taste of noise would come. Then again, the house hadn't experienced Olivia yet.

1,320 seconds walk into the room before he does.

I ate a rabbit for you.""Is that supposed to be romantic?""Why? Do you want it to be romantic?"Trent and Kiara, Scarred

Miles jogged off, leaving her alone in the large and quiet room. Aimee stood still, waiting for her mind and heart to go back to normal, return to how she felt a week ago before seeing Miles again.But they didn’t. Or wouldn’t. She put both hands over her pounding heart, exhaled, and sank into a chair. Nut-burgers. Now what?

Suddenly the bridge was filled with intense warmth, Will had lit the fire. Everyone immediately scurried over to it, with the exception of Scott. Carrie looked back at him, he was sitting with his back leaned against a stone pillar. The light from the flames danced on his sharp features and reflected in his dark eyes. Scott always wore a half-smile that was suspiciously close to a smirk. She was practically immune to his cockiness and wasn’t at all bothered by it the way that Will seemed to be.

Why the hell didn't faerie food come with a warning written in bold letters: MADE IN LA LA LAND. EATING WILL OPEN YOU UP TO FAERIE ATTACKS.

Stars are everything and nothing that we think they are.They are their own world, but through an act of will we make them part of ours. They are the diamonds of the gods, the lights at a stadium where angels play a midnight game of baseball.They’re fairy farts that have been set ablaze! Mostly, they’re just an untouchable beauty that’s so far away, it’s the only place safe enough to store our secret hopes and dreams. When we see a shooting start, we all make a wish. But what nobody admits is how afraid they are of actually catching something that fell from heaven. I’m not afraid to burn. ~Hadrian

Greasy burgers and fries are so much more delicious than swallowing a cow whole.

You are sitting in my chair, my lord." She said the words very civilly, she thought. Although he quirked a brow and lowered his chin as if giving her one of those looks. Like really? In a way that wasn't a question. She was telling a fae king, a hawk fae king, and a guest of the dark fae, that he should be sitting in her seat? But she didn't stop there. "You may sit there if it pleases you." She pointed to Micala's seat since he was not at the meal. Her mother's mouth gaped and for once she didn't have an immediate rebuke ready for Ritasia. The king gave Ritasia such a sinister smile, she was afraid she might have gone a little too far with her first encounter with him. She quickly remembered her manners, curtseyed, though, because she wasn't wearing a gown, she thought she looked a little ridiculous, then looked back up at him.

I won’t forget it,” I said. “I hope you meet someone perfect one day.”“Ha…yeah, that’s just it. I think I already did.” As we opened our doors to step out, he touched my arm. “Just to be clear, if I, like, leaned over and whispered your name in your ear, still nothing?

He opened the door for me with an impassive expression. Oh, but he couldn’t fool me. I knew very well that he gloated inside. He had the right to. I’d be gloating aloud if I were him. I slid into the plush black leather seat and ran my hands over every surface I could touch after buckling my seatbelt. Awe, like a slow burning fuse, spread all over my body. My fingertips sizzled. It was one thing to hear Gramps talk and completely another to actually sit inside the fantasy.“Should I give you two some time alone?”
“What?”
His smile gave me unexpected quivers. “Stop molesting my car.

His wax-white skin was cool to the touch when she brushed his neck to find the knot of cloth. She'd never been this close to a vampire,never realized what it would be like to be so near to someone who didn't breathe, who could be as still as any statue. His chest neither rose not fell. Her hands shook.

We loved it. We loved how slow it was. We love that it took forever. Actually, we never wanted it to end. We loved the jungle, the rafts, the ridiculous armor and helmets. . .I think most of all we loved that it didn't have a happy ending for anyone. The whole time we were sort of expecting that someone would survive because that's how stories work: Even if everything is a total disaster, someone lives to tell the tale. But not with Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Hell no. Everyone dies. That's awesome.

The dead should not linger.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. Let us just be friends, if we can start there. Can’t we? Can’t we at least be friends? Get to know each other a little? Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

For all I know, the guy is Dracula.

I’ve never liked urban myths. I’ve never liked pretending to believe in them; never understood why everyone else doesn’t see straight through them. Why is it they’ve always happened to a friend of a friend - someone you’ve never met? Why does everyone smile and nod and pull the right faces, when they must know they’re not true? Pointless. A waste of breath. So I sneered at the myths about Scaderstone Pit. It was just an old quarry – nothing more. I never believed in the rumours of discarded dynamite. It had decayed, they said. It exploded at the slightest touch, had even blown someone’s hand off. I shrugged off the talk of the toxic waste. It was dumped in the dead of night, they said. The canisters rusting away, leaking deadly poisons that could blind you, burn your lungs. I laughed at the ghost stories. You could hear the moans, they said, of quarrymen buried alive and never found. You could see their nightwalking souls, searching for their poor crushed bodies.I didn’t believe any of it – not one word. Now, after everything that’s happened, I wonder whether I should’ve listened to those stories. Maybe then, these things would’ve happened to someone else, and I could’ve smiled and said they were impossible.But this is not an urban myth. And it did not happen to someone else, but to me. I’ve set it down as best I can remember. Whether you believe it or not, is up to you.

I'd never known that I could feel this broken and whole at once.

In an unexpected move, Bryce reached for my hand and pulled me to his side. “Play along. We’ll straighten this out later.”Good Lord, the school hottie was touching me. It felt like I’d won some sort of geek-girl lottery. And depending on how this played out, Bryce could be the answer to my boyfriend problems. If he wanted me to cover for him, then he needed to help me with my overprotective brothers.

I was diamond on the outside, and I would not break.Inside, though, I was already broken.

Books in the YA genre, in particular, should use proper grammar because they're more of an example to young people than adults books are.