J.C. Lillis Quotes

Entering the ball is like crashing on a planet where no one cares how you dress or how you dance or who you love.

Co-writing. Man, just the word. I always thought it would be as intimate as sex and as serious as marriage. You'd come to each other committed but with no clue what to expect. You'd both lay down your tender ugly first-draft words and sounds, full of humiliating dents and bruises, and she'd see every part of your process as you sweated and chopped and swore your way to something plausibly songlike.

I see the Hell Bells post in my head, that weird "BFC" thing. Bullets From Crazies? Beat Fags Cheerfully?

he'll know it's not fic for me, not anymore.

Status: Naked. On bed. With boy. Systems overheating. Sudden doubts multiplying. Meltdown imminent.

Because here's the thing. We can do a lot in thirty-five days." He sat on the bed and pulled her down next to him. "I mean, think about books and movies. You can watch a great love story in two hours, right? Or read one in maybe two days? So imagine what we can do with thirty-five. We can celebrate a whole year of holidays. We can lock the door at night and turn the music up and memorize each other. We can taste and smell and touch every single thing we love about this whole town, so we never forget, no matter who we turn into out there." He hugged her hands tightly with his. "And then when it's time to leave each other, we'll go off smiling into the future, and we won't be distracted by all that 'when will I find true love' stuff people always worry about because they don't know how it feels. Because we'll already know how it feels. And if neither one of us ever gets another great love story, this one will be enough to last our whole entire lives.

Pretentious."
"So? I love pretentious people!"
"Why?"
"They try so hard to be interesting, you don't have to do any work.

"So? I love pretentious people!"
"Why?"
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"So? I love pretentious people!"
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He's cu-ute." Bree LaRue stumbles sideways, shielding her eyes with one hand. "Aww, look at his hair. And the chin! He's like Laurence Olivier, and a cockatoo. Like if they had a baby?

I can tell I'm being annoying, the kind of annoying where it feels like I haven't showered for days and everyone should just stay away.

Time flies when you're fulfilling your ambitions in a completely unexpected way.

I've never seen a naked torso that wasn't on a cross, at least not so close up. I don't know where to look. His belly button. Belly button. Look at the belly button.

I hit send and shut my phone off before it can protest. The world doesn't end.

There's only one kind of girl I can tolerate being, and it is not the Girl Who Gives it All Up for Love.

Electricity crackles from her lips to mine and I'm stunned it's not visible.

The threat of failure shouldn't kill the fun of dreaming.

What if I die of happiness and then go right to hell?

And when you're a weird and awkward and paranoid person at all times, CastieCon is the happiest place on the planet.
It's like, a baseline level of freakiness is expected here, right? So unless you're disemboweling goats in the vendor hall, no one gives a damn who you are or what you're doing.

Music is always the first thing I notice when I go someplace new.

It's fandom, Bran. Getting butthurt over nothing is practically a sacrament.

And yes, okay, I think she's pretty, but so? Lots of people, places and things are pretty. The Mona Lisa is pretty but you don't see me crushing on her.

I've always loved Halloween: the one day of the year when you can blatantly dress as your number-one obsession and people will smile instead of snicker.

Keep smiling, I tell myself. It's all good. That's what my wrist tattoo says and you only ink permanent words on your person if you plan to live by them.

Writing catchy pop songs is a super-minor superpower, but it's mine.

Sad songs are not my strong suit. All the songs that have saved my life make you feel like driving with the top down or dancing in your room with your best friend.

The way she says kiss, it sounds different. Like she invented the word specifically for the song.

Well, who doesn't love a good mpreg?"
"A what?"
"Sim gets man-pregnant? Gives birth to twins during a tornado?"
"I'll pretend I never heard that."
"Here, I'll read you the wedding one -"
"NO.

I want you back because... I like being with you more than anyone else. And because when I make you laugh I feel like the coolest person on the planet. And because we get each other in like, every possible way, and you don't know that's a huge deal until you grow up and meet a fuckload of people and you realize how rare that is.

You can stop waiting, you know,' she says. 'For what?' 'For God to strike you down.

I want to make a sweater out of this week and wrap myself up in it until it falls apart. If

His eyes trace the droplets branching down my chest.
They stop at my waistband.
"Brandon. Cutie."
"Yeah."
"You're still wearing your boxers."
"I am."
"Is there something you need to tell me?"
"No."
"Are you actually a Ken doll?"
"Nope."
"Is your dad a secret superhero and you have a bionic penis and you make up this big religious-paranoia back story because it shoots laser beams and has the strength of a bulldozer?"
"Yes."
"I knew it.

Don't be fooled into thinking that love is special. That it'll fill you up forever. Anyone can fall in love, but only you can make the art you were born for. And that's the kind of happiness that lasts.

Brandon's going to talk to a B-O-Y, and -"
"What?"
"That's your assignment tonight. You converse in public with a boy. You've heard of them, right? They're like girls, but with penises?

Nothing's better for art than a little old-fashioned suffering.

My secret is cool and mysterious like a jagged scar across my chest, and not dull and heavy like I gave up church buy not the angst.

Abel snores pornographically, like a prince sleeping off an orgy.

God is like junior high, Brandon. Graduate already.