District 12: Where you can starve to death in safety.
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I guess that's what saying good-bye is always like--like jumping off an edge. The worst part is making the choice to do it. Once you're in the air, there's nothing you can do but let go.
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For several moments, Mary couldn't hear anything over the violent pounding of her pulse.
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All that we know, soon shall we abandon. As time will lend itself. Eyes know only what they see. But brave hearts beat on with belief.
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They were rebellious through their artistic expression and their uplifting spirits
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A book is a wonderful present. Though it may grow worn, it will never grow old.
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How many times can a heart be shattered and still be pieced back together? How many times before the damage is irreparable?
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He is a free man, not because is in a poition of political power and influence that you will never be able to achieve, and not because he has more character and heart in his fingertip than you have in your entire being, but because he is a man, and is thus entitled to be free.
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Please, touch me, I pray.
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Every great day has a story and a song!
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Friends are the family you choose (~ Nin/Ithilnin, Elven rogue).
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Believe in yourself, Follow your dreams, and all things are possible!
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But sometimes, in tight corners, when your back is against the wall and the world is against you, you have to fight back in unexpected ways.
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I went outside and discovered that nighttime is for lovers.
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I wanted to remind you that you do not allow me to deliver boats, as I have been known to crash them.
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There is no right or wrong, only what we believe is more right or more wrong
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Creativity is the catalyst to the future.
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Let the spirits guide you, but never let them take you.
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There is no law stronger than that ofmagic. - Kian
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We stand there for a moment, staring at each other, savoring it. And then all at once, we slam together. Mia's legs are off the ground, wrapped around my waist, her hands dipping in my hair, my hands tangled in hers. And our lips. There isn't enough skin, enough spit, enough time, for the lost years that our lips are trying to make up for as they find each other. We kiss. The electric current switches to high. The lights throughout all of Brooklyn must be surging.
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The voice blurs and fades, like a faint cry riding on the tails of the wind. I yawn and stretch, rolling over. I fold my pillow under my head and wait for the voice to return. When I hear nothing but the sound of my own breathing I allow myself to drift back into a dreamless slumber.
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Enough with the sadness! This dream is not for cry-babies.. He said, his face beaming with a wide smile.
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He grinned, a very dark and evil grin the kind of grin that the Grinch had before he stole Christmas.
Why don't you check out those teenagers in the middle row? They've been going at it like dogs in heat ever since the previews. They're probably both werewolves. And even if they aren't, you should throw them out on principle alone.
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My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, MANIFEST. The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be -- if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being. But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it. Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level. Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way.
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