Riley Redgate Quotes

I stand there looking after him with the feeling that - just like that, in one careless moment - I might've ruined somebody's life.

You don't realize how alone you are until you let yourself out of your cage, or until someone finds a way inside" -Valentine

There's a point where procrastination turns into resignation that you will never do what you need to do, and I hit that point, like, two hours ago, after opening a Word document in a short-lived fit of optimism. At this point, anything I write will seem like one hundred percent bullshit when I read it over tomorrow morning, so is this even worth it? Signs point to no.

Here, I choose to love what I have. Here, I choose to love what I am now

Isaac was panic over whether to call and the murmured admission that the world was too big and too furious and too much to make sense. He wasn't about to patch my doubts and make me whole; he wasn't going to be my cornerstone; he wasn't the blanket stretched taut to catch me when I fell. He was this nervous kid, playing with matches and dancing around gasoline, and I was this nervous kid, shying back from the firelight, and we were here nervous together, acting like we had it figured out - as if we hadn't already learned what it looked like to see each other pretending.

It was impossible to feel alone in a room full of favorite books. I had the sense that they knew me personally, that they'd read me cover to cover as I'd read them.

...right," I say, clicking my pen. "I'd rather die than do a skit about Inferno, so there's that."

"You know it?" he asks.

"What?"

"Like, have you read it?" Matt has a quiet, husky voice. He rushes through words as if he's not allowed to be talking.

"Just excerpts, but I know the plot," I say. "Basically, Virgil gives Dante this guided tour of the nine circles of hell, and Dante wanders around judging people and fainting a ton. Which is kinda like, it seems sorta dangerous to drop unconscious in hell of all places, but I guess my experience there is limited, so.

You know what they say. Three things last forever: faith, hope and spite. And the greatest of these is spite.

Sometimes you want people to -- not even put you first, or anything, but to just think about you a little, you know?

My body is not yours. I don't owe you, I don't owe boys some fucked-up compensation for my reputation, I don't owe the public an apology for my personal life, I don't owe anyone a goddamn thing, so get out of my life and stay out!

I promise you, two dozen words were not the difference between mediocrity and excellence. Make a habit of burning something to ash before expecting a rebirth.

Beauty was beauty and want was want and a beating heart was a beating heart.

Kiss a girl once and suddenly the world seems built to support her existence.

If you can't fix it, leave it behind.

The story pours over me like water, drips down onto my head until I'm immersed head-to-toe, transported between the covers.

Interrogate your instincts. Insecurity isn't shameful. Attraction isn't an embarrassment. Interpersonal affection isn't a side note to be glossed over. Whatever the nature of the material that forms between two people, it's the backbone of literature.

Or maybe love is never healthy, and we should guard our hearts in hospitals for preemptive healing.

Sometimes, good intentions couldn't do a thing except make you feel less alone, and sometimes that was enough.

Though I guess if you love someone, the thought of losing their approval is probably twice as terrifying.

It's sort of hilarious, though, how so many... kids like to think they're social outcasts, talking with people who are obviously their friends about 'never fitting in'. They have no idea. If they did, they wouldn't glamorize it. The reality of isolation is glamorous and unexciting" -Kat

I meant to ask Erik to say something to Victoria, to follow what had happened at the dance, but I couldn't settle on the right words. An apology for fleeing, sure, but then what? 'I only think of you as a friend'? 'I think we should see other people'? 'It's not you, it's the fact that I'm secretly a girl who sacrificed a foot and a half of perfectly good hair to the dark gods of a capella'?

It's too simple to hate the people who have doorways where you have walls

I think I'm beginning to understand
how hearts fit together.
Not like diseased carnations that lean against their crutches.
Not like vines that twine tight, throttling their hosts.
But like two trees:
two systems of deep, untangled roots,
two patterns of flowering branches,
whose leaves drink their own sunlight
and breathe their own air.
Two trees with something slung between them,
a hammock or a tapestry or a swing,
some third, beautiful thing
that neither would die without.
Hearts fit together like hands.
Not by necessity.
By choice.

The only real thing was her phone, alive and moving in her pocket, where her friends' reassurances built up. Every so often she looked down at it, the corner of a glowing screen peeking out of her pocket, and felt herself slipping inside that digital place they had together, where the world was made out of words and everything was safe.