C.G. Drews Quotes

If Aunt Karen doesn't want us, we can find our own house." Sammy takes Avery's hand to cross the road.
"Can you do that?" Avery whispers. "Steal houses?"
"Yeah," Sammy says. "Yeah, of course I can.

If he smiles, they might think he's friendly, and then what?

Moxie's body relaxes and her shoulder leans against his. The pressure is warm and soft and everything. And he falls into it. Just a little. He won't let himself get too comfortable - he's not that stupid. But for the barest moment between patchwork frowns, he's wanted.

He hates how innocent her face is, how her lps are twisted in a quiet smile, how her breath puffs in globes of cold white. He hates it because she is hope and tomorrow and he is goodbye and the end.

He can't be an invisible boy when she can see him. He can't steal houses or the girl inside them, but he can build a bridge of moons and caramel cakes to get back to her.

She is the sun and her eyes burn stars.

You are worth more than a thousand perfect notes

It's like being beaten – but with hope instead of fists.

If people cut him open, they'd never accuse him of being empty

Sharing music is personal because music speaks, it feels, it breathes. And it always says something about you.

The world is a broken mirror, each shard reflecting his terrified face.

Everybody leaves."
"I'm not leaving.

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She's going to see how bare the house is. How bleak. They don't own much, just useful furniture and filing cabinets of music. No decorations. His family collects bruises and German insults instead of crockery and photo frames.

If something even remotely sexist comes out of you mouth again,' Moxie says, her eyes glinting, 'I will take a pound of flesh per word.

Cheerfulness is irritating, but it suits some people. Some people are born for sunlight and orange peel smiles and running on the beach and wild flowers in their hair.

Other people are born for nonexistence.

We're stealing a house, because you know what we need?"
Avery shakes his head.
"We are the kings of nowhere," Sammy says. "We only need us."
He's a very good liar.

He's so empty. They tried to stitch him back together, but too much already fell out. Stars and buttons and caramel truffles.

Sam looks down at his fingers wrapped around Avery's phone. "I'll catch him if he falls."
"Who catches you?" Moxie says.
Sam stitches on a pretend smile. "It doesn't matter.

He floods the house with music that shook the world a hundred years ago. His fingers knot over complicated patterns and his thumbs fail when he needs them most. But, the Maestro's wrath aside, he owes it to the music to find perfection.

Beck closes his eyes. Forgets. Zones out so far he reaches the place deep inside where his own music lies. Little notes clamouring to be free. His own notes. His own creations. His fingers tap a tattoo against his other clammy palm. If people cut him open, they'd never accuse him of being empty. He's not a shell of a pianist - he's a composer. Cut his chest and see his heart beat with a song all his own.

No, he likes her because there is sunshine in her eyes and she knows the secrets to smiling.

Music is nothing unless it fills your soul with colour and passion and dreams

He's not exactly a stranger anymore. He showed Jack how to do a backflip. Someone tipped sand down his shirt. He gave Moxie a leg up over the chain fence on the way home. He's eaten their potato salad and worn their clothes.
The trouble is he stole it all, every moment. And that's the part people don't overlook. They feel betrayed. Betrayed people have the hardest fists.