Quotes from Carrie Jones

I don't think we ever find anything, do we? I mean in life. We think we find things and then it turns out those things aren't what we thought.

I will not be violent," I chant-mutter. "I will not be violent. I am peaceful and good. I do not want to give anyone the finger.

A part of me does not want to think that I always knew something was wrong.=. This is probably the same part that didn't look at the evidence that was right before my eyes, and even though I know this, it does not stop me from defending the fairy tale.

Emotions are real, just not the reasons behind them.

You like me?" I repeat, because, well, I want to be really, really sure that I heard him right. This is not the sort of thing you want to get wrong. He nods and says, "Very much." "You like me very much?" He lets go of my hands and touches my check. "Too much." "Too much?" Trying to keep my voice calm, I say, "No such thing.

Fear makes us stronger, puts us on our toes. We've got to embrace it." Issie

How about I burn us some dinner before my shift starts.

With love comes responsibility and possibility, fear and hope, quests and suffering

And do you admit that you have a bad temper, a cute car, and a nice girlfriend?" I hold my breath. "I have an amazing girlfriend," he says. And then he kisses me, which is, you have to admit, the perfect boyfriend thing to do. The kiss is soft and speckling like star promises in a night sky. I stretch into it, wishing that I could hold onto it forever, even though I know that kisses can't last forever—can they?

I turn back to the lake, stare at the ice slowly moving on the surface of the water. Pieces of the solid fall into the liquid, but it's all just water no matter what its form.

Dude, you tried to kidnap her to bait her mom into coming to you. Then you tried to turn her mom into a pixie. Come on. I mean, no offense, but you are not Daddy of the Year stuff here.? Issie steps a little forward. ?Plus, you didn't even show up on the scene for what? Sixteen years? That's lame. Seriously. That is very deadbeat dad stuff right there.

It was by Anandamayi Ma: "Be anchored in fearlessness. What is worldly life but fear!

Do I need to ask Mr. Colt to move?" She wiggles her lips. "Are we having a little love in the afternoon?" Everybody titters-not laughs, but titters. I can feel my face turning red. "No. No, it's fine. He's fine." "He sure is," mutters some girl with mall bangs at the next table. Her table mate slaps her five.

What feels best is how I no longer hurt.

Sometimes things aren't logical. Sometimes things don't follow timetables.

Is everyone as wrong about me as I am about them?

I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears. While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick's furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

Oh." I touch my cheeks. "You licked me." He laughs and leans over, giving a tiny tongue swipe to my hand. "You're very lickable." I try to hit him. He laughs harder and grabs my hands. "No fair! Mere mortal against werewolf," I complain. "Fine." He lets go, but first he kisses my fingers, each of them. I sigh happily.

Let's face it, the world has issues. Big issues like sex slaves and genocide, racism, poverty, homophobia and wars, religious conflicts and environmental disasters—but the world is also worth saving because it has writers like Foucault and people like Issie and Grandma Betty. I know it's not all cuddly puppies and rainbows and ice-cream sundaes, but it needs a chance, as many chances as it can get to survive.

My eyes meet his eyes. "You were a jerk," I say. His hands move to my cheeks. "I'm sorry." I pull away, but I can only go an inch before I bump into lacrosse sticks, not that I really want to go any farther. "Nope. No way. You do not get to kiss me yet." He pouts.

Sometimes, when you are scared, it just helps knowing that someone else is here.

Friedrich Nietzsche says, "He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster.

I meet his eyes. They are deep and almost mesmerizing. Did I say deep before? Yeah, right. That's not it. They have a pull to them, like currents, like Velcro or something, totally captivating, like when you see a convertible flipped over on the highway and there are body bags and you don't want to look but you look because you can't look, because you can't not look, because you are just riveted and . . . Stop. Just stop.

They should be beautiful, but I know what they are. They are not beautiful, because beauty is about grace and love and hope. They are all about need.