Alex Flinn Quotes

To see Kyle, to wave to him, like getting off at the 79th street station, near where Kyle lives, instead of going all the way to the Lincoln Center station near school, so I can grab coffee and watch him walk by before I, too, walk on to Tuttle, about fifty feet behind him.

You can't respect yourself if you're letting someone beat you up–inside or out.

The days after that, I felt so many different things, sad, angry. Guilty, but for the mostly just numb, like part of me was dead.

I am a princess. I do not follow fashions
I make them.

Anyone else feel like that? Like your life's a big act. Like you're trying to be a man when you're just a scared kid, trying to keep under control when you really want to scream, cry, maybe hit someone. Ever feel like you're breathing underwater, and you have to stop because you're gulping in too much fluid?

My quote is that a guy name beastly theres a guy that has a wierd face and he loves her. so much and the women didn,t like him at all. then they get in love alot in the end.and then he gets his face normal.

I write contemporary fiction, and that is what my readers want to read.

Maybe Cinderella was the bad guy in the story, and her stepsisters were just nerdy girls who wanted a boyfriend. How politically correct was it, really, to make the villains ugly? And how realistic? In my experience, it was usually the pretty people who were mean to the ugly ones, not the other way.

So I said, "I'll miss you. You are the truest friend I've ever had."
I could see that my words were a knife in his gut. Yet, it seemed kinder than the alternative, for him to know I love him, but that I'm leaving anyway.

What happened December 12?" Polyester asks.
I look at the wall, my attention suddenly riveted by a palmetto bug, feelers writhing. I could kill it if I wanted.
He hit me."
The bug slides to the floor.

Mr. Anderson:Well, maybe we all should call it a night. Congrats to the happy couples. Will there be wedding bells soon?

SnowGirl:Definitely. I mean, if you help a guy kill a dwarf, he should marry you.

I'm a bat, want to see me fly?

Will, you look like hell!" I yelled through the glass door.
"I can't say how you look," he said. "But if you look like you sound, you look like a jerk. Please help me.

Control is part of faking it

What they don´t tell you about Europe is how completely lame it is.

I glances at Sloane, who was having a joyous reunion with fifty close friends she hadn`t seen since yesterday.

Parents always forgive you. Like sometimes, you see parents on the news, and their kid just got busted for murdering a 7-11 clerk, and they're like, 'But my Bubba's a good boy. He'd never hurt a fly.' So I'm sure your parents would forgive you for whatever you did.

Something with inner beauty will live forever, like the scent of a rose.

You shouldn't miss people who don't miss you ...

I wish to go with you, not as man and wife, but merely as friends, travel companions, the sort of happy-go-lucky chums about whom rollicking old ballads of the road are written.

A single white roes goes with everything, doesn´t it, and it symbolizes purity.

So what if I cannot be a model, if I am no longer considered beautiful, if Malvolia is trying to catch me. I am climbing a tree! And I am doing so with Jack.

The magic is over, but its effects will live forever.

Love is Never Ugly

Even in my time, we knew that men were not in
charge. Oh, they might bluster as if they were. But when it came down to it, we women bore much of the influence. Often, my father would make some grand pronouncement in the evening. And the next morning, he had changed his mind. After a while, I realized that it was my mother who had changed it, quietly, in the night.

Leaves. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of them, brown and yellow and red and orange, in bright piles on the concrete floor. Some were so high they almost covered the rosebushes.

I tell him the ugly duckling grew up to be a huge asshole." "Why?

Beside me, Philippe and Meg hold hands. He murmurs something that sounds like, "my dear leetle mongoose." I wish he'd turn back into a frog and hop away.

A lie can travel half way 'round the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes.

It's about doing the right thing even if you don't want to do it. About taking responsibility for your actions ... it's about letting go when you really, really want to hold on so bad.

I can't go on like this

She leans against me, head against my shoulders, and in that second, I know, against the lights and the bright and the heat and the gray, I really want to kiss her.

Good to know: Doctors can't cure you of being a beast.

It's easier to fake it. When you fake it for sixteen years, it becomes part of you, something you don't think about.

Somewhere down the road ... I hope you find [that girls] don't all have the same thing between their ears. The good ones don't put up with macho mind games.

Those who do not know how to see the precious things in life will never be happy.

Maybe the crazy people are the only ones who know the truth.

I can see into his soul, and it is beautiful.

Still, as I watch the sun journey higher up on the horizon, I appreciate that, for only the second time in my entire life, I am alone, blessedly alone, with no one to tell me what to do or what to wear, no one to have to be polite to. Nothing. But I do not wish to be alone, not entirely. Now that I am finally alone, it feels ... lonely.

A beautiful thing is precious no matter the price

We accept without question that we–human beings– are the center of the universe. Talk about hubris. But when a woman says, 'I love you', that won't go through our skulls.

I got myself there. No one does anything for me.
So I know when I meet the right guy, it's not going to be someone like my dad. It's not going to be someone who needs me. It's going to be someone who can, for once in my life, be a hero.
I'm hoping guys like that still exist.

A shoe that fits one person pinches another.

Meg makes a face and lays her hand on my arm. "And why, exactly, would John want to see Eurotrash?"
"Hello?" Ryan says. "Because he's a seventeen-year old guy with normal male urges, and she's got-" He holds both hands out from his chest.
"Really pretty eyes," I complete his sentence.

Seem like a lot of people wear shoes they can't walk in.

Maybe you actually do need to face obstacles with someone to know that they're the one you'd sacrifice for.

I was just ... thinking."
"That must have been quite an experience for you.

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That's what true love should be like-the person should be part of your soul and you should know what they're feeling all the time.

I learned that it is possible to make conversation with anyone, if you figure out what they wish to discuss.

I remember, now, how to cry.

This isn't a fairy tale. It's New York City.

I try not to. I mean, you shouldn't miss people who don't miss you, right?

she danced in the shadowy moonlight, and it felt good to be bad for once, really bad and get away with it, good to be someone else.

This is where he should say that he is in love with me, that I have changed his life and that he loves me for it. But he doesn't. Is it because he is shy? Or because he is too young to say such a thing? Or is it merely because he does not love me? The worst of it is, I am falling in love with him.

I just knew. There was no movie ending. There was only an ending.

Listen." The voice is extremely loud, and I am forced to hold the telephone away from my ear.
"I don't know who you are, or why you have Jack's phone, but he is my boyfriend, and - "
Boyfriend? What is a boyfriend? Perhaps it is something like a beau.
"Is he engaged to you, then?" I hope not.
"What? No. Of course not."
"Oh, what a relief. He is my true love, and you do not sound very nice."
"What? Listen, you ... "
And then, strangely enough, she calls me a female dog.

Sometimes, unexpected things can happen.

A memory came to me. One time, in middle school, a famous author came to talk to our class and give a writing workshop. One of the things she told us about writing a novel was that the story should be about what the main character wants. Dorothy wants to go home to Kansas. George Milton wants a farm of his own. Amelia Sedley wants to marry her darling George and live happily ever after. The end of the story, according to the famous author, is when the character either gests what he wants or realizes he's never going to get it. Or sometimes, she said, like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind, realizes she doesn't actually want what she thought she wanted all along.
pg. 324 of Bewitching

I am not frightened of you Kyle. I am
frightened for you.

I took a punch at one of the rosebushes. It got its revenge by stabbing me in the hand.

Is it enough to be a princess, when being a princess means nothing?

The whole thing was like a divorce. When we divided everything up, Courtney got my dignity, and I got the heartache.

I love you, I thought. But I didn't say it. It was not that I feared she would laugh in my face. She was far too kind for that. My fear was a greater one - that she won't say it back.

What happened to romance?

Although my other ambition was to be a musical theater star (and I would attend college on a voice scholarship), writing was never far from my mind.

Any experience that isn't fun is probably something I will at least use in my writing someday.

His brown eyes are intoxicating, and in that moment, I see my escape.

By the time Vizzini fell over, dead, I'd finished my popcorn and put the bag down. I wanted some more. It seemed like the beast was always hungry. I wondered, if I was transformed back, would I be fat?

To be worthy of a princess, you must face your dragon ... Your greatest fear.

But Adrian, sometimes it's nice to let her be smart too.

Through her jacket, I could feel her heartbeat. It made me happy to know she was alive, was real, was there.

Wow hav u read beastly its really awesome i mean u wont want 2 put it down ever

The notebook smelled the way old books do, like dust and unrealized potential.

You shouldn't miss someone who don't miss you, right?

You will wake only if kissed by a young man who is truly your love, truly your destiny, one who would walk miles and face torturous tests to find you.

I'm a better person when I'm with you. I don't want to stop being that person. I don't want you to go

I'm here, my love,"...

When you've found out that the person you love loves you, you can't
delay. You have to hurry.

When I'm with you, I don't feel ugly at all.

I was a lawyer for about ten years. The law teaches one to see things from all different angles.

Of course, maybe I'd end up like one of those crazy old people with, like, sixty cats. And one day, the neighbors would complain about the smell, and it would turn out I'd died and the cats had eaten me.
Still, it might be nice to have a cat.

People are very fearful these days.

Since I've written many of my books from a less-than-sympathetic viewpoint, I think that being able to see things from all sides is a useful talent.

It is hard to know how to save the world if one has never lived in it.

You are ugly now, on the inside, where it matters most ... you are beastly.

It would be so great to have someone my own age to talk to, even if it was just about books.

Each of my books took roughly one and a half years to write. Some may have taken a shorter time to write the draft and a longer time to revise, while others were the opposite.

Every cloud must have a silver lining
Wait until the sun shines through
Smile my honey dear, while I kiss away each tear
Or else I shall be melancholy too!

People make such a big deal about looks, but after a while, when you know someone, you don´t even notice anymore...

I wonder how many times in my life I would have been able to prevent something, change something, do something different, if only I'd listened to someone.

What happened to romance? sappy soppy longhand love letters.

Having a Coke with You

is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me

and what good does all the re

I believed she'd gotten past ther hatred of me, turning to pity instead. But how could I make that into love?

Money sure does fix things, doesn't it? Except for things that can't be fixed.
Like broken hearts.

But now it all floods back - the euphoria of loving her, the agony that she's leaving, that i'll lose her

Trust me? I held my breath for her answer. She had every reason not to trust me. I'd been her kidnapper, her captor, yet I'd rather have died than hurt a single hair on her head.

Better?" I went from holding her hand to hugging her. "Lindy, you loved me when I wasn't even human.
You kissed me when I had no lips. You saw what was deep down inside me when I wasn't even sure
about it myself. Believe me, there's no way I could do better. I think you're perfect.

The word felt good, liberating. So, I repeat it. "Fuck." Then, again. And again. Because it made me someone else, someone normal and happy, someone who used words like that, like St. John. I repeated it, over and over until she walked away, wounded. Then, I was glad. And still, I kept repeating it, because that was the only thing that kept me from crying.

Be careful, okay, when you go there. Talia was really scared of this Malvolia chick. She could be dangerous."
"What's she going to have - an assault weapon?"
"Worse," I say. "She's got magical powers.

It had seemed like such a good, such a romantic idea, to drive and not stop for gas.