The best Book Quotes (Page 2)

When the past is always with you, it may as well be present; and if it is present, it will be future as well.

We have sealed ourselves away behind our money, growing inward, generating a seamless universe of self.

Night City was like a deranged experiment in social Darwinism, designed by a bored researcher who kept one thumb permanently on the fast-forward button.

Cliches became cliches for a reason; that they usually hold at least a modicum of truth, and the following cliche is truer than most: You can't know where you're going if you don't know where you've been.

Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

You can't tell whether people are gay by what they look like. And gay or straight aren't the only two options.

I like Charlie Spring! In a romantic way - not just a friend way!

Snow in April is abominable. Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.

And that's what love at first sight is. It isn't really love at first sight until you've been with the person long enough for it to become love at first sight.

A woman knows if she wants to keep a man forever, she has to act like she could get over him in a day.

A terrible sex life is like a virus. Your marriage can be healthy in all other aspects, but once the sex dies out, it starts to infect all the other parts of your relationship.

Find what you love and let it kill you.

The things lurking around inside the mind can be just as dangerous as tangible threats.

I was difficult. An emotionally challenging puzzle he wasn't up for solving. Which was fine. I wasn't in the mood to be solved.

Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. "Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you're at it." Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you'll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

The kiss was full of both desire and respect - two things a lot of men didn't seem to know could go hand in hand.

If we were friends, I would do something to comfort him. Maybe grab his hand and hold it. But there's too much inside me that wants to be more than his friend, which means we can't be friends at all. If an attraction is present between two people, those two people can only be one of two things. Involved or not involved. There is no in-between.

I don't want to call him an a-hole. He's a little kid, and he's been through a lot. But I think he might be an a-hole.

Here, I'm invisible. Unimportant. Manhattan is too crowded to give a sh-t about me, and I love her for it.

It was amazing how different sex felt when a person used more than their body. I involved my heart and my gut and my mind and my hope. I fell in that moment. Not in love. I just... fell.

I'm the awkward writer who posts a picture of my book and says, "It's an okay book. There are words in it. Read it if you want."

A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they're willing to separate every layer of protection between the author's soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.

Most people come to New York to be discovered. The rest of us come here to hide.

My mother used to say that houses have a soul, and if that is true, the soul of Verity Crawford's house is as dark as they come.

It's natural, to assume the worst in people, even if that assumption is only for a split second.

How many other planets have you visited? Perhaps they all sail in oceans of pollen and your home is the freakish one.

Tress considered herself to be categorically boring. She liked her tea lukewarm, she went to bed on time, she loved her parents, occasionally squabbled with her little brother, and didn't litter. She was fair at needlepoint, and had a talent for baking. But had no other noteworthy skills. She didn't train at fencing in secret, she couldn't talk to animals, she had no hidden royalty or deities in her lineage. Though her great-grandmother Glorf had once reportedly waved at the king.

The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.

"Ye werena the first lass I kissed," he said softly. "But I swear you'll be the last."

"A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love?" he demanded.
No, I thought. I won't. I will not. But I did. "Very carefully," I replied, giggling helplessly.

I once read that you fell in love like how you fell asleep: slowly at first and then all at once.

We might not have months or years, but we have moments. Thousands upon thousands of them. Let's take each moment, seize it and wring it dry.

Forgetting is pretending it never happened. You need to remember and remember and remember, until it has no power over you anymore.

Feelings are like tonsils. Mostly useless, and occasionally a source of pain and discomfort.

Wasn't love a kind of chaos theory? One small look, one smile or one word could alter the course of a life forever.

Sometimes the heart hides itself behind the mind.

Love had no end. She was infinite. She was a universe, my universe, and I was hers. Love had no boundaries, no rules, no favorites. And no limits.

My world had been fading to gray until she burst in like a bombshell of color and light.

Love, real love, wasn't empty, grasping hands, or lies that felt like truths. And it wasn't perfect or neat or always easy. It was a rising sun on a new day. It was endless possibility.

Maybe. Maybe is gradations of darkness. The sweetest torture. Maybe is hope.

There's so much that's shitty in this world, when you find something that shines against all the dirt and darkness, you gravitate toward it.

Dying, I learned, is a not a team sport. It's a solitary endeavor. Everyone I loved was standing on dry land, while I was alone on a boat as it slowly pulled away from the shore, and there's nothing anyone could do about it but watch it happen.

There are times in this life in which we must do what is best, and so often what is best is not what is easy.

The music is the language and your body speaks the words.

I loved her… my soul sang the words I could never say to her out loud.

Where there is ruin, there is hope for treasure.

"What does he need?"
He smiled sadly. "Someone who stays."

I love her. I don't know how it happened, or why, but I do. Something in me connects to something in her. I've felt it since the day we met.

"How do you do that? How do you know what to do and say so that I feel…?"
"So that you feel what?"
"Whole. You make me feel like I have a shot at something more than this misery."