Carrie Jones Quotes

That's when I realize how much I don't want to be alone, how sobbing should not be a solitary sport..

We teleported," Issie finishes. "Like in Star Trek or Harry Potter, sort of. No! Like in Dr. Who in that episode with the Sontarans and the brilliant human boy, or really any Dr. Who ever if you think of the Tardis! Holy canola! That is just the coolest thing ever! Wowie, wow, wow!

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.

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.

I. Am. So. Hungry.

It's going to come to fists eventually.

you have to face your fear.

Mom, I promised to behave. It wasn't easy. I mean, she couldn't help herself. She was all over this hunk of Navajo manhood and I had to keep telling her I'd promised not to let her violate me. Eventually she wore herself out and fell asleep.

Occasionally her tongue darts out between her lips, which makes me think of a snake, or Jared Leto during a television interview.

What feels best is how I no longer hurt.

Phone service is back up and Devyn calls Issie, and then leaves to bring her over. Gram calls Mrs. Nix, the school secretary.
"She's a bear," Betty exclaims after she hangs up the phone. "I trust her."
I don't even blink.

You're pouting. Pouting is not allowed. It's too cute.

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

A tiny part of my heart is so happy to see him safe and laughing, but the other part is a black pit that threatens to suck all of me into it. He is happy without me. He is laughing without me. But what about me?

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

What?"
"That's sweet."
I am sweet. My heart flip-flops and I bite my lip a little bit. Sweet as in a lollipop, or sweet as in a girl you wold like to kiss passionately in the stacks? That's the question.

"That's sweet."
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I give a little wave back because it's more mature then giving him the finger.

You cloak your evil, your violence, in the mask of good. I am just evil.

I stomp toward her and point. I've SO had it with her. "That is SO not nice."
You don't even talk like a queen." She glares at me.
Nick raises an eyebrow at me. "You're a QUEEN?"
I walk to the edge of the bed, stand just a few inches away from her. Power rolls off of her. "Okay, please refrain from your insidious comments, which are obviously geared to inflict harm upon my psyche. I do not appreciate it."
Nick cracks up. "Well, you ARE the same Zara.

It's just him and me and cookies.

Pixies have to be invited in, like vampires. I read it on the Internet."
"Well, there you go," I mutter. "Then it must be true.

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

Opening my eyes takes effort, but it's worth it to see him, right there in front of me. He's so beautiful,golden. It's so hokey, but it's how he is. He is warmth to me.

It is warm within the mansions of Hel.

I just think about how saying that you love someone can make your heart feel like some sort of brownie sundae, warm, gooey, sweet and good.

I'm not much of a distance runner, more of a sprinter.

In Norwegian that would be 'hun ma dra. Kanskje er hun gravid.'" Astley sttempts to smile.
i can't help teasing him. "Which? Asking to go to the bathroom or dissing me because I'm pregnant."
"you are with child?" his eyes open wid, all mock terrified.
"No! Shut up. You know I'm not." I punch him in the arm and then lead him into the stairwell, shutting the door behind us. "Okay. Seriously, Astley, what happened to you? Why is your head bleeding?

I swear his pheromones have my freaking name written on them. They hone in and attack.

A pixie's true skin color is blue. Cookie Monster, Grover, and other lovable Muppets are also blue. Do not confuse the two. Muppets don't kill you. Usually.

Nick stands behind me. He puts a hand on my waist.
I yank in a breath. The world seems to swirl around me.
"Are you going to faint?" he asks.
I back into him and blurt, "But you're so cute. Werewolves aren't supposed to be cute. Vampires are, I think. They are in the movies. But the werewolves are pretty much ugly and they wear leather jackets and are all dirty with these monster sideburns."
"That's all you have to say? That I'm cute?" He takes a stray piece of my hair and curls it around his fingers. "Most people faint or shriek or never talk to me again.

I like a lot of things that aren't good for me.

She is a beautiful creature, but beauty doesn't equal good and it certainly doesn't equal sane.

Reality isn't round, it's flat. There are edges where you can fall off and this October when I moved to Maine, I fell off one.

Is that Disney magic of pixie magic?" I kid ...
"It is life magic".

She smirks."Are you attempting to stop me, little one?"
"Excuse me? Did you just call me 'little one'? What are you? Like, four feet tall?" I ask.

Emotions are real, just not the reasons behind them.

I want you to want me because you want me, not because of grief, not because he is not here. I want you to love me for me. I want you to kiss me first and not because you need me to help you, but because you need to kiss me.

How does that put me in danger?" Nick asks. It's the first question he's asked the entire time. Devyn, however, has been Mr. Nonstop Wondering Question Guy.
"Because . . ." I don't know how to say it, struggle for the words. "Because you and I are a thing and you're a threat."
"You better believe I'm a threat," Nick growls. The entire car seems to shake with his energy. Little hairs on my arm lift and vibrate.
"He's going macho again," Dev says, totally nonchalantly, while he unlocks the door.
"He's always going macho," Is adds. "It must be the wolf thing."
"I am not going macho. I am always macho," Nick says, and for a moment the tension ratchets down, but then his face muscles become rigid again.

There is no easy off button for your brain.It would be really really nice if there were.

There's no other word that comes close to describing how you make me feel. Nothing.

that's a pretty big lie by omission

Perfection is some mythical state that we can never achieve

We all live with our losses. We don't want to, but we can

And this time Zara White," he says, " this time it is my turn to rescue you." - Astley

Hands grab me, steady me. I jerk back, but they are surprisingly gentle. He doesn't smile as I turn to see his face. He just stands there, letting me inspect him. He's tall with a wide forehead and dark blond hair that's cut short. His green eyes are deeply set beneath that forehead. His lips are wide and rugged like the rest of him. His hands have huge knuckles like he's a boxer or arthritic or hits walls. He looks like he did when he pulled me out of the car, but stronger, taller somehow. He must be completely healed. He looks my age and he looks good, like the guy in high school that everyone, even the teachers, fall in love with.

We all line up except for this guy in a wheelchair, Devyn. He smiles at me when I line up, introduces himself. He has a movie star smile, just white teeth and charisma, big eyes, dark skin. He'd be perfect looking if he didn't have such a large nose, but the truth is it looks good on him, natural and powerful. He winks at Issie, who blushes.
"You can do it, Is," he says.
She rolls her eyes, twists her lip, and says, "As long as I don't pass out."
"If you pass out, I'll put you in my lap and wheel you across the finish line," he says, and it somehow isn't sleazy because you can tell by his eyes how much he cares about Issie. I instantly like him.
She blushes worse. Her face looks like she's already sprinted a mile.

Where'd the dog go?" I ask, sounding panicky.
"That wasn't a dog, Zara," he says, words whisper strong.
I jerk my head up. "What was it then? A cat? A gerbil? A geriatric hamster?

That's what people who love you do: they hold you and lie. They tell you that you're worthy, that everything will be all right, and they do that even when you both know without a doubt that this is not true, that is it nowhere near the truth.

I know it's like meant to be and stuff, but I have to wait, cause to truly love someone, you have to work out the things that need to be - and you have to be ready to love them and they, you.

Maybe he wants you to be his queen," Devyn saids. "Continue the line."
"That's crap," Nick says.
"Yeah." I glare at him. "Why would anyone want me to be their queen?"
"That's not what I meant." The front legs of Nick's chair slam back down.

I swear,if she were a cat she'd be hissing.

If you don't believe something, then don't say it. Saying it only gives it power. ~Betty White

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

There are people who like cute, furry things and people who eat cute, furry things
-Issy, pag. 53

Thank you for getting me," I try to say. My lips are so tired they don't want to move.
"Anytime,Zara.Really.I mean it." He seems to be smelling my hair.
"I know you hate me and everything but we should be friends," I tell him, closing my eyes.
"I don't hate you," he says. "That's not it at all."
"What is it then? Are you a victim of parthenophobia?"
"Parthenophobia?"
"Fear of girls."
"You are so strange." He moves back even closer to me, this wicked glint in his eyes like he's trying hard not to snort-laugh at me. His hand presses against the side of my head. Nobody has ever touched me like this before, all gentle and romantic, but strong at the same time. "I'm not afraid of girls."
"Then why haven't you kissed any?"
For a second his eyes flash. "Maybe the right one hasn't come around yet.

I used to be embarrassed by my mom, but now I know what she is - she's a hero.

He wipes his hand on his shirt.
What? Did I drool on you?"
A little."
You're a wolf. You should be used to drool."
That's low.

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.

Finally the bell rings and the teenage Pavlovian dogs mosve to the next kennel.

So, I'm a bear," she explains, eyeing us all. "Wait? Is Issie something?"
"Nope," Issie pouts. "All human. All the time."
"The coolest human ever," Devyn says, reaching down and ruffling her hair.

His reddish hair is rumpled, but in a deliberate I'm-in-a-boy-band way.

I whirl around, stare into his grimy,grief-stricken face. His face is beautiful and so good. How could I have believed he'd betray us?

That Nick is a nice boy."
I eyed her. "He doesn't like me."
"Really? Are you trying to convince yourself or me? Because I found him pressing a bandage to your head while you were passed out drooling on the couch.

The secret of happiness is freedom, the secret of freedom is courage.

Monsters? Why? Because we admit to the pain we cause? Admit we like it? ...

Anywhere I roam, where I lay my head is home.

The only thing that scares me now is me.
The [person] I might become. The [person] I dont ever want to be.
Everybody has fears, right? But how many have my fear?
Enough, it seems. Because there's a name for it.
Autophobia.
Fear of oneself.

I lean back down and press my lips against his" you're going to be safe. i swear.i'll keep you safe."
his lips move beneath mine." I love you." his eyes are strong for a second, intense Nick eyes."I will always love you no matter what."
"we'll always love each other," i say

No one can ever save someone else, you know? We can only save ourselves. You know that, don't you?

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.

Astley comes to my side. "Are you well?" "No," I tell him, voice hoarse. "I am not well. I am broken inside. I am broken almost all-the-way deep, and I don't know ... I don't know if I can ever be unbroken, let alone well again".

I promise you. You will survive this. Feel my hand. It is yours now, my queen. I promise you. I am yours.

There are so many layers inside of people, so much soul pain and angsty depth and heart hurt, and some ... hide all this so well that when it comes out in an action as simple as a nod, your entire world shifts a little bit on its axis.

He has an armload of irises and daisies and tulips and he presents them to me. "I didn't know what kind of flowers you like."
"I like them all."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He tries to hand them to me, but then remembers the cast. "I'll put them in water."
Betty swoops in the room ridiculously fast and she grabs the flowers out of Nick's hands. "I'll take care of them. You lovebirds just sit on the couch and think swooning things at each other.

Attention, people talking about me: I. Am. Right. Here.

Who am I really? Am I still the same person if I'm not even technically a person anymore? Does being stronger make me different? Will it?

Not ugly for someone her age, but what she's doing with those numbers and letters seem unholy.

Sometimes it's good to give people something they're not expecting.

You're perfect,aren't you?"
"I am a werewolf," he says between bites. He bends his head.
"That just gives you a totally good excuse for your pathetic temper."
He wiggles his eyebrows. "True.

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You have to be able to catch someone to arrest them.

We are not defined by our species any more than our nationality or our gender. What we do , our choices, that's what defines us.

Now. Put it in forward."
"Okay, just don't hurt Yoko." "Yoko?"
"My car." "You named your car Yoko? As in Ono?"
"You have a better name?" "How about Subaru?
"I'm shifting!

Know that I love you, that I always will love you no matter what choices you make, what paths you have chosen, and what paths you choose in the future.

I crumple on my bed. For a second, i believed that what i wanted more than anything in the world had come true. For a second, i believed that my dad was back. but he isn't. He's gone again. he's really truly gone and i know it. i know i'll never see him again no matter how much i want to.
The candle in me has blown out and i'm afraid, really, really afraid, because my biggest fear is true. i have to live my life without my dad, my running partner, the guy who taught me amnesty and sang john lennon songs really off key.

Pixiophobia: a fear of Pixies.
I made this up, but believe me it should be a word because it sure is a legitimate fear.

Zara." He sighs. The wind bellows outside. "How can I make you understand this? I need your mom. If I don't get her, more boys will die."
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's just how it is."
I think for a second. "If that's true, then why did Ian try to turn me?"
He loses his composure. His face shifts into something worried, something almost human. "Did he kiss you?"
"Almost. Betty killed him first."
He almost smiles. He pulls his hand through his hair. "Betty is fierce."
"Is that why you stay away when she's here?"
"Not even a pixie wants to tangle with a tiger."
He blows on the ember in his hand. It turns to dust.
"You seem like you could handle almost anything," I say.
"This?" He smirks. "Parlor tricks.

There needs to be a turn-off button for noses. This is too much.

You will be a great queen when you come back, you know. And someday you'll love me the way you love your wolf.

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

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.

What I have learned lately is that people deal with death in all sorts of ways. Some of us fight against it, doing everything we can to make it not true. Some of us lose our selves to grief. Some of us lose ourselves to anger.

I'll have to remember that next time," Nick says. "Instead of tying a pixie up to a tree when I don't have time to bring him back to the house, I can just knock him unconscious for hours with the power of a frozen everything bagel.

Hate is a useless emotion.

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.

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.

Losing people you love affects you. It is buried inside of you and becomes this big, deep hole of ache. It doesn't magically go away, even when you stop officially mourning.

He motions to the glue brush. "Can I have some?"
I start to grab it so I can pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.
Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from the outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.
Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.
He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend."
The lights come back on.
"Just a little brownout." The art teacher smiles and holds out her arms. "Welcome to Maine, Zara. Land of a million power failures."
Nick's breath touches my ear. "I heard you didn't drive to school. I'll bring you home after cross-country,okay?"
"Okay," I say, trying to be all calm, but what I really want to do is leap up and do a happy dance all over the art room. Nick is driving me home.

I had to keep telling her I'd promised not to let her violate me.

We kiss for a long time, a good long time. I don't even notice that it's cold and I forget to be afraid because that's just how good a kisser he is. His lips move above my lips. My lips ache for the touch of him, the softness of his skin. We keep kissing. My hands wrap themselves in his hair. His hand presses me close into him, as close as I can be against him, and he is solid, strong, amazing. My hands leave his hair and journey down to the sides of his face, still tingling.
"We should keep going," he says, voice gruff and husky again. I love when his voice sounds like that, deeper than normal. His lips puff out a little more, too. "You're blushing."
I pull my lips in against each other like I'm still trying to taste him. I move my snowshoes off of his snowshoes. It's tricky.
"You're a good kisser," I say.
"So are you.

Dimples crinkle up the skin near his lips. I will not look at his lips. How can he never have used those? That's a crime against humanity right there.