I can't even read notes. But I can teach someone how to make a guitar smoke.
Jace. This can't happen. " I closed my eyes, thinking it would be easier to say without him looking back at me. But it wasn't. "This isn't about us. I can't leave Marc.
The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.
There’s a good kind of crazy, Kaylee,” he insisted softly, reaching out to wrap his warm hand around mine. “It’s the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward’s way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole.
I went up on my toes to kiss him, and he groaned. "Do you really think this is appropriate on school grounds?" "Nope. " I wrapped my arms around his neck. "And I happen to know there isn't an appropriate thought running through your head right now. " "Or any other time. " Tod pulled me close and held me so tight my ribs almost hut, but I didn't want him to let go. Ever.
Tod's eyes widened, and his irises swirled in tight twists of blue. "Well, I don't see that I have much of a choice, considering that's part of Reaper Law. " "There's a Reaper Law?" "Of course. 'A reaper is Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous. . . '" He shrugged. "It gets boring after that. But this situation is clearly covered under the 'helpful' category. " I rolled my eyes. "I think that's the Boy Scout law. " "They took it from us. But they left out all the good stuff.
She just got out of the hospital. Why don't you go gossip behind her back, like decent people?
And I'll see your true colors shining through I see your true colors and that's why I love you so don't be afraid to let them show your true colors, true colors are beautiful like a RAINBOW.
All my best girlfriends play guitar now, which is kind of a funny world to live in.
Not everyone can be trusted. I think we all have to be very selective about the people we trust.
The good, the admirable reader identifies himself not with the boy or the girl in the book, but with the mind that conceived and composed that book.