Krystal Sutherland Quotes

Human beings could not be mended with gold seams.

We were characters out of a movie. We were thoroughly alive. And we were absolutely beautiful.

I don't mean it in any suicidal sense," she said, and she was whispering even quieter now, like she was telling me a terrible secret. "You know how you can have the most exausting day and you can't wait to get home and fall into bed and sleep for hours? I feel that way about life. There are people out there who read books about vampires and they crave immortality, but sometimes I'm so thankful that at the end of it all, we get to sleep forever. No more pain. No more exhaustion. Death is the reward for having lived.

I wondered, during the long, hazy afternoons of those first couple of weeks, if she was hyperaware of her body as I was of mine. Every accidental brush of skin as we reached over each other, every bout of raucous laughter that would leave one of us burying their forehead into the other's shoulder. Some days, Grace instigated the accidental contact. Other days she held herself like a marionette every movement deliberate and measured to ensure our skin never touched, that we weren't sitting too close to each other.

If you didn't let people get close to you, they couldn't hurt you when they left.

They've poisoned you with this 'love is patient, love is kind' bullshit since you were a kid. But love is scientific, man. I mean, it's really just a chemical reaction in the brain. Sometimes that reaction lasts a lifetime, repeating itself over and over again. And sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it goes supernova and then starts to fade. We're all just chemical hearts. Does that make love any less brilliant? I don't think so.

When I look up into the night sky, I remember that I'm nothing but the ashes of long-dead stars. A human being is a collection of atoms that comes together into an ordered pattern for a brief period of time and then falls apart again. I find comfort in my smallness.

Bedrooms are like crime scenes. So many clues to be uncovered.

I know you want her back, kid. And I know that people saying things like 'there are plenty more fish in the sea' is only going to make you hurt more. And I could tell you all about the science of what your brain is going through right now. How it's processing a pain as intense as hitting a nerve in your tooth, but it can't find a source for that pain, so you kind of feel it everywhere. I could tell you that when you fall for someone, the bits of your brain that light up are the same as when you're hungry or thirsty. And I could tell you that when the person you love leaves you, you starve for them, you crave them, Heartbreak is a science, like love. So trust me when I say this: you're wounded right now, but you'll heal.

...Tell me you believe that our lives are anything more than a ridiculous cascade of random chances.

Grace was my drug of choice, and tonight the dealer was giving out hits for free. I'd stay until I overdosed.

Esther wanted to make her brother understand that he was the sun. That he was bright and burning and brilliant, and without his warmth, without his gravity to orient herself around, she would be nothing. She wished they had that psychic twin thing, that she could push images into his head and make him see. Make him see that he was everything.

People change. There's no way you're the same person you were when you were sixteen.

The goddess of crustaceans, our lady of hard exoskeletons.

after I hit puberty, it was like a switch inside me flipped, and instead of becoming a testosterone-driven sex monster like most of the guys in my school, I failed to find anyone I wanted in my life in that way.

A lobster had been placed on the seat across from her, its black beady eyes locked on hers. I will kill everyone you love, it rasped in lobster-tongue.

I wasn't depressed. I'm still not depressed. I'm fucking angry.

some things are more beautiful when they've been broken.

Stories with happy endings are stories that haven't been finished yet.

Everyone we let into our lives has the power to hurt us. Sometimes they will, and sometimes they won't, but that's not a reflection of us, or our strength. Loving someone who hurts you doesn't make you weak.

Lola and I both highly believed in the value of metaphorical gifts, so while everyone else saw a demonic-looking cat skeleton dripping wax on the packaging, Lola saw the message: Our friendship is like this feline shaped candle - burn away all the shit, and you and me are still solid underneath. Always.

The best thing the universe ever gave us is that we'll all be forgotten. [...] I kinda like the idea. That when we die, despite any pain or fear or embarrassment we experienced during our lives, despite any heartbreak or grief, we get to be dispersed back into nothingness. It makes me feel brave, knowing I'll get a blank slate at the end. You get a brief glimmer of consciousness to do with what you will and then it's given back to the universe again. I'm not religious, but even I can appreciate that that's redemption, on the grandest scale. Oblivion isn't scary; it's the closest thing to genuine absolution of sin that I can imagine.

Point is, you gotta be scared. Fear protects you. You gotta be scared right down to your bones" - he touched his fingertips to her collarbone - "for bravery to mean anything.

How could death not be appealing, when the only thing that gave him comfort in life was being unconscious?

The trouble was, I did know what I wanted from Grace Town. I wanted to sleep with her, sure. I wanted her to be my girlfriend. A few years from now, I wanted to marry her. And then, when we were old, I wanted to drink peppermint tea and read Harry Potter to our grandchildren with her on the veranda of an old house in the countryside as we watched a summer storm roll toward us. Was that so much to ask?

A thousand little moments had made Esther fall more and more in love with him, without her even noticing. A thousand little pieces of his soul had splintered off and dug themselves into her.

You shouldn't keep the phone numbers of rapscallions who robbed you and left you for dead at bus stops, or stood you up on Valentine's Day at age eight, even if they looked like Finn from Star Wars and dressed like the Fantastic Mr. Fox and smelled like heady cologne.

Something must first be shattered for it to be put back together in a way that made it more beautiful.

She'd passed the fear barrier, and she'd lived, and she'd discovered not certain death, as she'd imagined, but impossible splendor. What other beautiful things had fear been hiding from her? What else had the curse long kept her from discovering? For the first time in a long time, she wanted to find out.

Because I have never met anyone that I wanted in my life that way before.
But you.
I could make an exception for you.

Anxiety felt like a grapnel anchor had been pickaxed into your back, one prong in each lung, one through the heart, one through the spine, the weight curving your posture forward, dragging you down to the murky depths of the sea floor. The good news was that you kind of got used to it after a while. Got used to the gasping, brink-of-heart-attack feeling that followed you everywhere. All you had to do was grab one of the prongs that stuck out from the bottom of your sternum, give it a little shake, and say, "Listen, asshole. We're not dying. We have shit to do.

That's the problem. That's what's wrong with love. Once you love someone, no matter who they are, you'll always let them destroy you. Every single time.

On her own, Grace could be effervescent, illuminating the entire room with her intelligence and wit. Around others she seemed to lose her luster.

Maybe Dracula wasn't a vampire, just a raging alcoholic who was constantly hungover.

It's the end of the Earth and the death of the universe that give me the insane courage to say that I am yours, if you want me.

As she fell, Esther wasn't worried about being blown off course and plummeting into the rocks below. She wasn't worried about hitting the shallows and pin diving to the ocean floor and shattering her spine. She wasn't even worried about Cthulhu. (Okay, maybe a little.) What she worried about was Eugene's willingness to jump. The way he glanced down at the water far below and looked at it like it was home. The way he stepped lightly from the cliff's edge, and the way he fell through the air faster than she did, dragged down by earth's magnetic field. The way he flickered in the sunlight as he hit the water, the same way Tyler Durden flashed on-screen four times before you saw him solidly. Foreshadowing the twist to come. Eugene was afraid of demons, and monsters, and above all the dark, but he was not afraid of death. That scared her more than anything.

Esther changed into a costume of Wednesday Addams, and then they went, the three strangest teenagers in town: a ghost who couldn't speak, a boy who hated the dark, and a girl who dressed as someone else everywhere she went.

One day," he said, "everybody's gonna wake up and realize their parents are human beings, just like them. Sometimes they're good people, sometimes they're not.

People aren't empty vessels for you to fill up with your daydreams.

Draft Six
Because you're worth nothing less than stardust, but all I can give you is dirt

Draft Three
Because I never realized that you could fall in love with humans the same way you fall in love with songs. How the tune of them could mean nothing to you at first, an unfamiliar melody, but quickly turn into a symphony carved across your skin; a hymn in the web of your veins; a harmony stitched into the lining of your soul

Because it seems like a lot of hassle, liking someone. Your brain runs hot, the cogs inside your mind jarring together until all the oil of your thoughts is burned away. The fire spreads to your chest, where it chars your lungs and turns your heart to embers. And right when you think the flames have burned away everything but your skeleton, the spark skips from your bones to immolate not only your flesh, but your entire life.

Plus, how can she be your soul mate? Didn't you tell me she'd never read Harry Potter? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone like that? I mean, for God's sake, think of your children. What kind of environment would they be growing up in with such a mother?

She was of average height and average build and average attractiveness, all things that should've made it easy for her to assimilate into a new high school without any of the dramatic tropes that usually inhabit such storylines.

The magic had started to degrade, and Rosemary had slowly but surely become thoroughly, gruesomely human. And there were few things worse in this world than humans.

Of course it's not going to be easy. You're fighting a war against yourself. Every time either side makes ground, you're the one who gets hurt. But it's not about winning the war against your demons. It's about calling a truce and learning how to live with them peacefully. Promise me you'll keep fighting. -Esther

Here," Grace said as she opened the book again and tore out the page with the poem on it. I flinched as though I were in actual pain. "You should have it, if you like it. Pretty poetry is wasted on me." I took the paper from her and folded it and slipped it into my pocket, half of me horrified that she'd injured a book, the other half of me elated that she'd so willingly given me something that clearly meant a lot to her.

Grace had torn me apart and put me back together so many times that I'd started to believe that was what I wanted. A kintsukuroi relationship, more beautiful for having been broken. But something can only be shattered so many times before it becomes irreparable...

My teenage hormones have rendered me too emotionally fragile to be in a learning environment right now.

The old fear was there, the grapnel anchor lodged in her chest, the thing that wanted to pull her back away from the edge and whisper no, no, no. Yet there was a new thing: a lure. Something down in the water thatwhispered yes, yes, yes. Go forward, onward, into the unknown. It felt like something between destruction and thrill

Love doesn't need to last a lifetime for it to be real. You can't judge the quality of a love by the length of time it lasts. Everything dies, love included. Sometimes it dies with a person, sometimes it dies on its own. The greatest love story ever told doesn't have to be about two people who spent their whole lives together. It might be about a love that lasted two weeks or two months or two years, but burned brighter and hotter and more brilliantly than any other love before or after. Don't mourn a failed love; there is no such thing. All love is equal in the brain.

Sometimes it was better to not get what you wanted. Sometimes it was better to leave beautiful things alone for fear of breaking them.

Once you love someone, no matter who they are, you'll always let them destroy you. Every single time. Even the very best people found ways to hurt the ones they loved.

Esther so badly wanted to save her father, to bring him back from the half death that had become his life. Every time he reminded her that he couldn't be saved, Esther's heart broke a little more.

Just because a love ends doesn't mean it wasn't real.