Emma Mills Quotes

The idea that it doesn't matter what over people think about you gets thrown around a lot in high school, and in many instances it's true. But I do care what certain people think of me.

What I really wanted was to kiss Ezra's face off. And punch him in the arm. And then kiss his face off some more.

A cute nickname was the first mile marker on Gag Highway, heading straight to Relationshipville. And making up the names of fake roads and cities to express your unhappiness was probably the first step to insanity.

I would've liked to think I looked a little more mature than the rest of the girls in the class. Then again, with the majority of them being PTs, I probably looked the most like a fourteen-year-old."
-Devon
First & Then

It could have been avoided. This couch misery spiral, this … loss … I could've avoided the bulk of it simply by doing more. I could've given a shit...

I think about that kind of love as we increase in altitude. How maybe it doesn't just stand for romance - maybe it works for friendship, too. Maybe there's a kind of friend love that opens you up… Maybe you didn't have a place for it within you before, but once it finds you out, crawls inside, and makes space for itself, you can't live without it ever again.

She's also ruthless and unforgiving and, some would say, ill-mannered and incredibly unpleasant. Somehow, this doesn't seem to affect her political standing, but then again, that often seems to be the case in the real world as well

Maybe there are people who love someone so much that when they lose them, they never want to be with anyone else again. But maybe there are people who love someone so much that it makes them want to find that kind of love again. Maybe they loved them so much, they can't live without that kind of love in their life. And maybe … it's a kind of love where you don't have to say it. Where they're such a part of you and you're such a part of them that it doesn't need to be said. Because you already know."

When I glance up at Gabe again, he has his eyes on me.

"Yeah," he says. "Maybe."

"I like that," Vera says with a small smile. "I think it must be like that."

I think about that kind of love as we increase in altitude. How maybe it doesn't just stand for romance - maybe it works for friendship, too. Maybe there's a kind of friend love that opens you up … Maybe you didn't have a place for it within you before, but once it finds you out, crawls inside, and makes space for itself, you can't live without it ever again.

I look over at Vera, and I think about what she said to me the first day we had lunch together: They never really say that they love each other, but it's so freaking obvious. Like, Sherlock would straight-up kill for Watson.

"Just so you know," I say, "I would straight-up kill for you.

It was endearing, in that way that almost ached sometimes, how much my folks wanted Foster to be okay. And I think even more than I did, they wanted Foster to be normal. For me, being normal meant fitting in. For them, I think, it just meant being happy.

You said no, though," he says, slightly muffled. "When I asked you out. That one time."

"Wait, what?"

"That time at work? I asked you to the movies, and you said you would invite Vera?"

I pull back a bit. "That wasn't - you weren't asking me out. You said I could come, too, if I wanted. That's not asking someone out."

"It was to me," he says, sheepish, and I want to poke him, but I also kind of want to hug him forever.

"Next time you want to ask someone out, maybe be less subtle. Maybe try to use the word date or together. Maybe phrase it as an actual question, you know, get some upward inflection going at the end of the sentence?"

He just looks at me, a little bit like he wants to poke me, but maybe also hug me forever. Instead he just kisses me, and it's a long time before we break apart again.

The perfect comeback only comes to you way after the offending incident, most especially when you're alone in the shower with no one but the shampoo bottle to tell it to.

Look at those legs," Noah says. "Look at that bone structure. Look at those eyes, you could get fucking lost in them." "You need Google Maps to find your way out of my eyes," Gideon says, executing an elaborate turn before catwalking back.

So I just open up my arms and Vera leans against me, and Gabe steps closer, putting one hand on her hair and petting it absently. None of us say anything. The city pulses on around us, and I'm not sure which one of us is anchoring the others, but I've never felt less adrift.

Sometimes it's hard to know if something's for real? It's hard to believe it, even if you want it to be real. Even if you want it so badly. Sometimes it seems...safer, you know. Not to risk it.

Labor Day is really the last sweet taste of summer. One final pardon before all your Mondays become Mondays again.

I had also never realized before that I loved him, but I did. And his pain was my pain, and it hurt, but it also felt good in a strange way, knowing that we could share in it together.

You're thinking really loudly.

A thousand electric cars could run on how you feel when you know that the person you like likes you back. It feels incredible. Like it shouldn't be possible. Of all the happy coincidences to ever exist, it's one of the happiest.

Tragic deaths aren't avoidable. That's what Ezra said outside Sam's wake, and even though--to use Foster's phrasing--I didn't know anything about anything, I felt in this moment that Ezra was wrong. What often makes something tragic is that it can be avoided.

Come on," he says. "I'm like the yellow Starburst of this group."
My lips twitch. "You're at least the orange Starburst.

I like you,' I say. 'I lustful-sun like you, I meteorite like you, you are the fucking pink Starburst to me.

So when I said that I'd always be your friend, I meant that... I always want to be there for you, no matter what. No matter which way. And if you don't feel the same way, that's okay. I understand. I'll just... keep on loving you. All those other ways.

As far as I was concerned, physical education was evil. You take a bunch of teenagers, make them strip down in front of each other in a locker room, have them don hideous matching uniforms, and then measure their worth based on their ability to chuck balls at a net, into a hoop, or at each other. It was just. Evil.

But I guess it looked how some little part of me wanted things to look. Even if it was just for a second. Like some TV version of high school.

It was kind of funny - the thing that had annoyed me so much about him in the beginning was what I dearly appreciated now.

Are there any particular majors you're interested in?"
"Not really." Saying advanced breakfast with a minor in cable television would surely bring about some epic battle that Mrs. Wentworth's smile was doomed to lose.

Wait," he said, and he had his hand outstretched toward me, fingertips just brushing the sleeve of my sweatshirt, gently rooting me to the spot. I wanted to shrug him off, but at the same time, I wanted to fall against him and bury my face in his shoulder. I wanted to commiserate about what had just happened, and make sure he was okay, and discuss how Stanton really is psychotic. I did none of the above.

I should've been better. But sometimes all you can really stand to do is think about yourself. Sometimes it's the only way to cope. The only way to make sense of something as colossal and and intimidating as the world is to make it about you.

Why would I want someone I had to make love me?

We should've looked before," Vera says, her voice soft. "We could've saved you the trouble."

"Are you kidding? The trouble was the best part.

The only other complaint I had about Jane's books, cousin-loving aside, was the getting-together part. They were stories of such unconquerable love, such strong feelings. You follow these characters through the ups and downs of an emotional roller coaster, this breathtaking will-they-or-won't -they, and is it too much to ask for a little more time spent on the I-love-you-and-want-to-be-with-you part? It was the very best part, and I wanted to draw it out. I wanted kisses--good, long, passionate ones. Jane never wrote about those."
-Devon
First & Then

Something perfect can end and something broken can endure.

I glance over at Gabe. Maybe I was wrong about me. About being for no one. I don't know what the future holds. My dad is right - there are no guarantees. None. But I pick up Gabe's hand and lace our fingers together, and that's enough in this moment.

We look out at the water, and that is more than enough for now.

Dreams don't have to be realistic- that's why they're dreams. You have to work to make them happen. Or else they would be...realities

This was possibly the first time anyone had used the phrase "too cerebral" when describing Pinky's advertising. Because someone somewhere in the Pinky's marketing scheme had made the brilliant connection that sub sandwiches are vaguely phallic. And from that, all the penis-related Pinky sub campaigns were born.

Like the commercial where you see the guy standing from the back, and then a woman in front of him, and she says, "Nine inches????" in this insane lusty voice, and then they pan to the side and show he's holding a Pinky sub right at groin height? It's the worst. It is literally the worst. I'm a cog in the world's dumbest corporate sandwich machine.

What would a pie chart of your malicious to non-malicious thoughts look like? How big a piece of the pie is non-malicious?

It's just...sometimes he says or does something so random it's like he's a life-form from another planet who's failing at blending into life on earth but trying like really hard, and you just have to share it with other people.

Alone didn't always mean lonely, but sometimes it did, and even then, she reveled in it. Lunches in the music room. Afternoons reading in the park. Loneliness was a kind of wanting, but it was also this incredible freedom. Not having to rely on anyone or have anyone rely on her. No one to disappoint or be disappointed by. Alone was good and comforting and dependable.

In truth, we are rarely all on the same page. More often than not, they're all on one page, and I' on a completely different one.

Are you ready to put the 'fun' in Fall Fun Fest?" he says as I slap his palm.
"I can at least put the 'trip' in 'Triple F.'" A pause. "By being clumsy, I mean. Not by, like, sharing drugs with the group." Three sets of eyes are on me, and I can't stop myself from talking. "I don't have any drugs. In case you were worried. Or, in case you were … expecting me to have drugs.…"
Gideon grins.

It just is because it is, it exists because there's no other way than it existing.

When you love something, you can't be happy all the time, can you? Like, that's why you love it. It makes you feel all kinds of things, not just happy. It can hurt, it can make you fucking mad, but... it makes you feel something, you know?