Quotes About Attitude

Death wins only if you let her.

I swear, Tiff, if my ass made good grades, you'd want to date my ass.

Then he folded his arms on his chest, so his biceps strained at the sleeves of his t-shirt, courtesy of the arm curl machine.

There was a lot of Sullen Malarkey on John's part.

And I was bitter. Bitterness and I were old friends by now, but at the moment bitterness was trying to go down my bra in public.

He gestured at the girl I'd been dealing with, whose carefree smile could be roughly translated as: 'He's officially not my problem anymore.' I gave her a wink whose exact translation was: 'Don't be so sure, darling.

He didn't like kids, and parents of kids weren't high on his list, either. It didn't matter how cool you'd been--you had a kid and you were one more sucker spooning goop into an angry little mouth, a guy with pacifiers in his pockets and snot trails on his sleeves and a happy-goofy look Danny could only think was some kind of shock, like those people who sit around cracking jokes after their legs get blown off.

He'd take danger over sorrow every time.

All vibes are good in thought, Its the actions of ones thought that predict the status outcome.

Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys.

I was feeling the height of bitchiness.

Papa always said you make your own luck. And maybe you do.

Keep your sunny side up

Shoulders back, titties first!

If you can't laugh, you won't make it.

Aren't you supposed to be taking my order?' I asked. 'Bite me. And then you can tell me what's wrong.

Well," a female voice said. "What have we here?" "Here," Bethany said, responding to the woman's rhetorical question, "we have a teenager. And she's pissed.

It doesn't matter unless you let it matter.

Devon put an arm around me and curled his lips into an expression I recognized as Smirk Number One: sarcastic with a touch of I-couldn't-care-less. "Why, Bryn," he said with a hint of Scarlett O-Hara in his voice, "I do believe he's given her your pen." Devon's words freed up my mouth, which—true to form—spoke without consulting my brain. "Well, get Freud on the phone. He'll have a field day with this one.

Even in the darkest of times, Xander was Xander. "You're going to drop one of those on your foot," I said. "That's okay," Xander responded cheerfully. "I have two feet!

Is that your professional take on the situation?" I kept my voice dry and caustic. This wasn't worth yelling over. It wasn't even worth a heated whisper.

I don't do vulnerable. It clashes with my bitch aesthetic.

Grayson was Not Please-and no one did Not Pleased like Grayson Hawthrone.

My grandmother gave an elegant little shrug. "People will think what they want. I daresay they always do.