Quotes from Megan McCafferty

I didn't know anything about anything. And the only difference between then and now is this: I may know more than I used to, but my wisdom pales in comparison to that which I've yet to learn.

I can't sleep at night. Can you?

I am fluent in snark. Bethany only notices snark when snark grabs her off the sidewalk, throws her in the back of a sketchy van with tinted windows, drives to the middle of the Meadow-lands in the dead of night, and uses a heavy blunt instrument to smack her repeatedly about the head as it screams, "I'M SNARK. DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME? I'M SNARKY SNARKY SNARK!" And even then she's like, "Ohhhh? Snark? Is that you?

Most happy stories are fantasies that never happened. A form of wish fulfillment. (...) Telling happy stories that actually happened lends a sort of fairy-tale quality to real life. They remind the teller and the listener of the magic that can be found in the mundane if you pay close attention.

Manda and Sara are annoying because their whole belief system is in opposition to my own. They live by a Grand Theft Auto morality, by which lying, whoring, and stealing scores innumerable points.

In theory, you're supposed to get everyone's names and become lifelong friends. I literally had contact with half the kids here last night, but how in hell do they expect me to differentiate one of my butt-to-butt dancing partners from another? Am I supposed to randomly rub my buttocks up against people to see if we've bonded booties before? "Yes, the particular musculature of your ass does feel familiar. 1 remember you now!" Duh.

I do believe the shotguns helped them accept this reality sooner than they might have otherwise.

Unfortunately for you, Scotty,' I said, removing his hand, 'they don't serve a drink called the Idiotfucker.

Dear Hope, I NEVER thought Id see the day when two of your daily e-mails sandwiched a message from none other than PAUL PARLIPIANO. My crush to end all crushes! Gay man of my dreams! OOOH!

I took comfort in doing without because I knew it was all for the greater good. We all made great sacrifices, none more so than those boys who lost their lives. Tragedy was part of our daily routine. But through it all, I never understood the point of being sad when I could choose to be happy.

That's when I realized I had gotten too attached to the TV.

In our artificial civilization many young people at twenty-five are still on the threshold of activity. As one looks back then, over eight or nine years, one sees a panorama of seemingly formidable length. So many crises, so many startling surprises, so many vivid joys and harrowing humiliations and disappointments, that one feels startlingly old; one wonders if one will ever feel so old again. —Youth and Life, Randolph S. Bourne (1886–1918) Even now, when I have come

We're all affected by life's random outbreaks of beauty and brutality

We help others only as much as they let us.

Whaddaya want?" growled Viola, our small, surly, octogenarian waitress. What did I want? A job. A clue. A love. "Two coffees," Len answered for me. Coffee would do for now, I guess.

Did you know that the average American spends six months of his or her life waiting for red lights to turn green?

But democracy is alive and well, as long as there's an open bar.

HOLY MOTHER. WAS THAT A FACE?

And here's the thing: I like who I am. I like the person I've turned out to be, and I know I'm not done evolving yet.

I'm sitting in the bleachers, watching longingly as all the boys and umbumped girls in my Personal Health and Fitness class play Muggle Quidditch. I don't even like the game very much, I think it's silly, but I so miss physical activity that I'd be thrilled if I could run around the gymnasium with a broom between my legs, chasing after the human snitch wearing a gold pinny.

But I can't help myself. And there he is, larger than life on the screen, looking every bit as tortured and handsome as he did the last time he tried to contact me a few weeks ago. (Harmony/Jondoe)

Let's choose all over nothing

The road less traveled will not be smooth

The tales we tell ourselves about ourselves make us who we are.