Yvonne Woon Quotes

When darkness falls and eyes stay shut
A chain of voices opens up.
Let wax not wane give breath to death.
p.s. Shhh -Yvonne Woon(Dead Beautiful)

I'm not afraid of death ... I'm afraid of life without you.

Rules help us live our lives
when we lose the will to do it on our own

I now understood that real secrets were lonely. They planted themselves inside of you and expanded, until you felt like that was all you were-a lonely little secret, isolated in your experiences.

How long - "
I didn't even have to finish my sentence. "Ten days."
"And you? You're - ?"
Dante looked away.
I let out a sigh. So the kiss worked. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
He looked older now, more masculine. He aged well, I told him, like an expensive cheese.
He laughed. "Did I ever tell you how romantic you are?

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With Dante gone, time seemed to stand still around me; the mornings just as cloudy and dark as the evenings, as if the sun had never decided to rise. There was no wind, like the world was holding its breath along with me, waiting for him to return.

I ... was impulsive and skinny, and wished that I could be more like a character in a novel, so I would finally stop blurting out the wrong things at the wrong time.

Real love is selfless.

She smiled, 'Oh, I'd like to believe that I'm always in love with something. After all, what else is there?

Oh, come on. Haven't you seen him?" Eleanor exclaimed.
It's because he's tall, isn't it? Tall and has long hair." Even Nathaniel's crude description made me want to see Dante again. Unfortunately, he never came to dinner, probably because he lived off campus.
"He's really smart," I murmured.
"And confident," Eleanor added.
"It's like he's older than everyone else," I said "Like he knows what he want and isn't afraid of taking it."
"What she's saying is that he's manly." Eleanor grinned.

In this world, darkness is always looming on the horizon. At Gottfried, instead of avoiding the dark, we meet it head on ...
do the same with your studies and with every obstacle you face in the future. Do not accept the confines of the world as you perceive it.
Instead, look for what you cannot see. There are universes among us, within us. Our only way out of darkness is to learn how to see WITHOUT light.

Why do you keep staring at me?" I muttered under my breath.
He glanced around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned towards me. His voice was hushed. "You have pen on your face. Here," he said, touching the space by his nose.
"Oh." I felt my face go red as I wiped my cheek with my hand.
"That and you remind me of someone I know. Or once knew. But I can't place who it is."
"I thought you didn't have any friends," I challenged.
Dante smiled. "I don't. Only enemies. Which doesn't bode well for you, considering the fact that you must resemble one of them.

How do you measure someone's life? By the scope of their accomplishments, or the number of people they've touched, or by the width of a hand? None of it seemed fair. None of it seemed like enough.

Absentmindedly, I started doodling in the margins of my paper.
Renee, I wrote in cursive, and then again in bubble letters and then in the loopy handwriting of the mystery note. I drew a tiny picture of the moon above the lake. And then stick figures of people swimming in it. And then for some reason, I wrote Dante. First in print, and then in large, wavy letters, and then in all caps. Dante. Dante. DANTE. I had just finished writing, when I heard someone say my name.
"Renee."
I shook myself out of my daze to discover that Mr. B. and the entire class were staring at me.
"Earth to Renee. The most primitive tombs. What were they called?" he repeated.
I glanced at my notes for the answer, but they were covered in doodles.
"Dante," I blurted out, reading the first word I saw. Immediately my face went red. "No, sorry, I meant . . . I meant dolmen."
I winced, hoping I was right so that I would be saved from further embarrassment. Thankfully, Dante wasn't in my class.
Mr. B. smiled. "Correct," he said, returning to the board. He drew a diagram of a stonelike lean-to, which I recognized from the reading. I took notes and kept my head down for the rest of class.

On Christmas morning, Dustin knocked on my door. "Miss Winters," he said cheerfully. "Breakfast."
I didn't move. My parents were dead. My boyfriend was dead. My grandfather had a mysterious hidden room that had books about the walking dead - which is what I knew I would feel like if I attempted to stand up.
"I don't feel well," I said meekly, and rolled over.