Becky Quotes

Why is straight the default? Everyone should have to declare one way or another, and it shouldn't be this big awkward thing whether you're straight, gay, bi, or whatever. I'm just saying.

White shouldn't be the default any more than straight should be the default. There shouldn't even be a default.

People really are like house with vast rooms and tiny windows. And maybe it's a good thing, the way we never stop surprising each other.

The way I feel about him is like a heartbeat -- soft and persistent, underlying everything.

He talked about the ocean between people. And how the whole point of everything is to find a shore worth swimming to.

You keep asking why your work is not enough, and I don’t know how to answer that, because it is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don’t need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live.

Ninety percent of all problems are caused by people being assholes.” “What causes the other ten percent?” asked Kizzy. “Natural disasters,” said Nib.

But I'm tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get a girlfriend. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

What's a dementor?" I mean, I can't even. "Nora, you are no longer my sister." "So it's some Harry Potter thing," she says.

I mean, I feel secure in my masculinity, too. Being secure in your masculinity isn't the same as being straight.

I’m too busy trying not to be in love with someone who isn’t real.

Sometimes it seems like everyone knows who I am except me.

We don’t have to fall into the same category to be of equal value.

Imagine going about your day knowing someone’s carrying you in their mind. That has to be the best part of being in love- the feeling of having a home in some else’s brain.

All you can do, Rosemary – all any of us can do – is work to be something positive instead. That is a choice that every sapient must make every day of their life. The universe is what we make of it. It’s up to you to decide what part you will play.

Because I have to admit: there's something really badass about truly, honestly not caring what people think about you.

It is definitely annoying that straight (and white, for that matter) is the default, and that the only people who have to think about their identity are the ones who don't fit that mold. Straight people really should have to come out, and the more awkward it is, the better. Awkwardness should be a requirement.

You don’t have to have a reason to be tired. You don’t have to earn rest or comfort. You’re allowed to just be.

And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.

People are shameless when it comes to cake. It's a beautiful thing to see.

I think there’s something beautiful about being lucky enough to witness a thing on its way out.

Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.

He turned and saw Becky, crying in the doorway of her house. What was he doing here? Turning back he saw flashing blue lights at the end of the road, and realised the ringing in his ears was the sound of approaching sirens.

He tells me to pick the music. I’m not sure if he knows that handing me his iPod is like handing me the window to his soul.

We cannot blame ourselves for the wars our parents start. Sometimes the very best thing we can do is walk away.

I don't even know. I'm just so sick of straight people who can't get their shit together.

I take a sip of my beer, and it's - I mean, it's just astonishingly disgusting. I don't think I was expecting it to taste like ice cream, but holy fucking hell. People lie and get fake IDs and sneak into bars, and for this? I honestly think I'd rather make out with Bieber. The dog. Or Justin.

We step out of our solar system into the universe seeking only peace and friendship – to teach, if we are called upon; to be taught, if we are fortunate.

Mosscap considered. “Because I know that no matter what, I’m wonderful,” it said.

Really, though, there are only two kinds of weather: hoodie weather and weather where you wear a hoodie anyway.

I don't like you with Becky. She's not a very nice girl.' 'I don't like you with Jake. He's not me.

Sometimes a person reaches a point in their life when it becomes absolutely essential to get the fuck out of the city

I looked at Mommy but quickly shook my head. "I don't want to miss her." Becky put her soft, warm hand on my shoulder, just like Mommy used to when I was upset. "Your mom wants to be here with you. She wants that very much. But Jesus wants her with him right now." I frowned. "I need her more than Jesus does.

The people we remember are the ones who decided how our maps should be drawn. Nobody remembers who built the roads.

I fall a little bit in love with everyone.

Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be?

Ah, but you're the insidious type--Jane Eyre with of touch of Becky Sharp. A thoroughly dangerous girl.

We’re all just trying to be comfortable, and well fed, and unafraid.

It's strange because in reality, I'm not the leading guy. Maybe I'm the best friend. I guess I didn't think of myself as interesting until I was interesting to Blue.

Humans’ preoccupation with ‘being happy’ was something he had never been able to figure out. No sapient could sustain happiness all of the time, just as no one could live permanently within anger, or boredom, or grief.

What’s not so great is that all this technology is destroying our social skills. Not only have we given up on writing letters to each other, we barely even talk to each other. People have become so accustomed to texting that they’re actually startled when the phone rings. It’s like we suddenly all have Batphones. If it rings, there must be danger. Now we answer, “What happened? Is someone tied up in the old sawmill?” “No, it’s Becky. I just called to say hi.” “Well you scared me half to death. You can’t just pick up the phone and try to talk to me like that. Don’t the tips of your fingers work?

The closest thing I’ve ever had to a journal is probably you.

There are some socks that shouldn't be washed by your mom.

I believe in love at first sight. Fate, the universe, all of it. But not how you’re thinking. I don’t mean it in the our souls were split and you’re my other half forever and ever sort of way. I just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path.

That’s not the same. What happened to you, to your species, it’s . . . it doesn’t even compare.’ ‘Why? Because it’s worse?’ She nodded. ‘But it still compares. If you have a fractured bone, and I’ve broken every bone in my body, does that make your fracture go away? Does it hurt you any less, knowing that I am in more pain?

I can wait for the galaxy outside to get a little kinder.

I swear, people can’t wrap their minds around the concept of a fat girl who doesn’t diet. Is it that hard to believe I might actually like my body?

I'm going to a dance." With Becky?" No, with Alexander." Who's Alexander?" The love of my life!

Becky Renee Apple - can you believe her mom named her that and then had all of her sweaters monogramed with 'BRA'?

But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good.

People can do terrible things when they feel safe and powerful.

I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways...And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.

You’re an animal, Sibling Dex. You are not separate or other. You’re an animal. And animals have no purpose. Nothing has a purpose. The world simply is. If you want to do things that are meaningful to others, fine! Good! So do I! But if I wanted to crawl into a cave and watch stalagmites with Frostfrog for the remainder of my days, that would also be both fine and good. You keep asking why your work is not enough, and I don’t know how to answer that, because it is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don’t need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live. That is all most animals do.

Don't believe the lie of individual trees, each a monument to its own self-made success. A forest is an interdependent community. Resources are shared, and life in isolation is a death sentence.

Then how,” Dex said, “how does the idea of maybe being meaningless sit well with you?” Mosscap considered. “Because I know that no matter what, I’m wonderful,

And then I kiss him for real, and he kisses me back, and his hands fist my hair. And we're kissing like it's breathing. My stomach flutters wildly. And somehow we end up horizontal, his hands curved up around my back. "I like this," I say, and my voice comes out breathless. "We should do this. Every day." "Okay." "Let's never do anything else. No school. No meals. No homework." "I was going to ask you to see a movie," he says, smiling. When he smiles, I smile. "No movies. I hate movies." "Oh, really?" "Really, really. Why would I want to watch other people kissing," I say, "when I could be kissing you?

There's something about you that makes me want to open up, and that's slightly terrifying to me.

Do you not find consciousness alone to be the most exhilarating thing? Here we are, in this incomprehensibly large universe, on this one tiny moon around this one incidental planet, and in all the time this entire scenario has existed, every component has been recycled over and over and over again into infinitely incredible configurations, and sometimes, those configurations are special enough to be able to see the world around them. You and I—we’re just atoms that arranged themselves the right way, and we can understand that about ourselves. Is that not amazing?

Anyway, we have something for you.” “Is it another awkward anecdote about me breast-feeding?” “Oh my God, you were all about the boob,” my dad says. “I can’t believe you turned out to be gay.” “Hilarious, Dad.

I mean, here’s the thing I don’t get. How do people come to expect that their crushes will be reciprocated? Like, how does that get to be your default assumption?

I can’t fuck your life, I’m monogamously fucking my own life.

So, maybe I should let my heart break, just to prove that my heart can take it.

I don’t entirely understand how anyone gets a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It just seems like the most impossible odds. You have to have a crush on the exact right person at the exact right moment. And they have to like you back. A perfect alignment of feelings and circumstances. It’s almost unfathomable that it happens as often as it does.

You can't just like Harry Potter. You have to be balls-out obsessed with it.

I hate when assholes have talent. I want to live in a world where good people rule at everything and shitty people suck at everything.

And this gay thing. It feels so big. It's almost insurmountable. I don't know how to tell them something like this and still come out of it feeling like Simon. Because if Leah and Nick don't recognize me, I don't even recognize myself anymore.

There’s just something terrifying about admitting you like someone. In a way, it’s actually easier when there’s no chance of anything happening. But there’s this threshold where things suddenly become possible. And then your cards are on the table. And there you are, wanting, right out in the open.

I like no endings. I like things that don't end.

Look," I said, "We knew Jason and Becky would be back, the break would end. This isn't a surprise, it's what's supposed to happen. It's what we wanted. Right?" "Is it?" he asked. "Is it what you want?" Whether he intended it to be or not, this was the final question, the last Truth. If I said what I really thought, I was opening myself up for a hurt bigger than I could even imagine. I didn't have it in me. We changed and altered so many rules, but it was this one, the only one when we'd started, that I would break. "Yes," I said.

It feels like we’re the last survivors of a zombie apocalypse. Wonder Woman and a gay dementor. It doesn’t bode well for the survival of the species.

The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never

At some point, you have to accept the fact that any movement creates waves, and the only other option is to lie still and learn nothing.

I don’t know if we’re in a love story or a story about love.

Wow, is that Katniss making out with Yoda?

Do not judge other species by your own social norms

Stay happy and healthy. Take time to read a good book and live your dreams. I am and loving it!

The truth is, Rosemary, that you are capable of anything. Good or bad. You always have been, and you always will be. Given the right push, you, too, could do horrible things. That darkness exists within all of us. You think every soldier who picked up a cutter gun was a bad person? No. She was just doing what the soldier next to her was doing, who was doing what the soldier next to her was doing, and so on and so on. And I bet most of them — not all, but most — who made it through the war spent a long time after trying to understand what they’d done. Wondering how they ever could have done it in the first place. Wondering when killing became so comfortable.

We celebrate the tree that stretches to the sky, but it is the ground we should ultimately thank.

From the ground, we stand. From our ships, we live. By the stars, we hope.

Mr. Spier, memorizing the Hamilton soundtrack is not going to save you on the AP Euro exam.

Such a quintessentially Human thing, to express sorrow through apology.

Perhaps the ache of homesickness was a fair price to pay for having so many good people in her life.

He kisses like Elliott Smith sings.

God, Arthur.” He kisses me. “Te quiero. Estoy enamorado. You don’t even know.” And I don’t speak a word of Spanish, but when I look at his face, I get it.

Did you just tell us you're gay?" asks Nick. "Yes." "Okay," he says. Abby swats him. "What?" "That's all you're going to say? Okay?" "He said not to make a big deal out of it," Nick says. "What am I supposed to say?" "Say something supportive. I don't know. Or awkwardly hold his hand like I did. Anything." Nick and I look at each other. "I'm not holding your hand," I tell him, smiling a little. "All right" --he nods-- "but know that I would.

The amount a person can spare is relative; the value of generosity is not.

How am I supposed to tell people they’re good enough as they are when I don’t think I am?

No sapient could sustain happiness all of the time, just as no one could live permanently within anger, or boredom, or grief.

Still. Something is missing. Something is off. So, how fucking spoiled am I, then? How fucking broken? What is wrong with me that I can have everything I could ever want and have ever asked for and still wake up in the morning feeling like every day is a slog?

I can't help it. I'm a Slytherin." And I'm the worst kind of Slytherin. I'm the kind who's so stupidly in love with a Gryffindor, she can't even function. I'm the Draco from some shitty Drarry fic that the author abandoned after four chapters.

Even if he likes me, I’m not sure he’d like me naked. I hate that I’m even thinking that. I hate hating my body. Actually, I don’t even hate my body. I just worry everyone else might. Because chubby girls don’t get boyfriends, and they definitely don’t have sex. Not in movies—not really—unless it’s supposed to be a joke. And I don’t want to be a joke.

Leah.' Mom shakes her head. 'You've got to stop doing this.' 'Doing what?' 'Burning everything to the ground whenever something goes wrong.

It is difficult to give thought to the stars when the ground is swallowing you up.

Without constructs, you will unravel few mysteries. Without knowledge of the mysteries, your constructs will fail. These pursuits are what make us, but without comfort, you will lack the strength to sustain either.

She would never, ever understand the idea that a child, especially an infant, was of more value than an adult who had already gained all the skills needed to benefit the community. The death of a new hatchling was so common as to be expected. The death of a child about to feather, yes, that was sad. But a real tragedy was the loss of an adult with friends and lovers and family. The idea that a loss of potential was somehow worse than a loss of achievement and knowledge was something she had never been able to wrap her brain around.

Life is terrifying. None of us have a rule book. None of us know what we're doing here. So, the easiest way to stare reality in the face and not utterly lose your shit is to believe that you have control over it. If you believe you have control, then you believe you're at the top. And if you're at the top, then people who aren't like you... well, they've got to be somewhere lower, right? Every species does this. Does it again and again and again. Doesn't matter if they do it to themselves, or another species, or someone they created.

You would matter. That's the thing. I get into this weird place sometimes where I worry about that. I've never told anyone this - not my moms, not Cassie - but that's the thing I'm most afraid of. Not mattering. Existing in a world that doesn't care who I am.

The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never forget to mention your name in their evening prayers. I have loved you before and since your first heartbeat. Your father loves you. He will be rightfully proud when I tell him about your brave attempt to protect Pretty Boy.” “You will speak to Daddy?” “I will.” “Please, may I know? Who are you?” “I am your guardian angel, Cindy.

A moth was a caterpillar, once, but it no longer is a caterpillar. It cannot break itself back down, cannot metamorphose in reverse. To try to eat leaves again would mean starvation. Crawling back into the husk would provide no shelter. It is a paradox -- the impossibility of reclaiming that which lies behind, housed within a form comprised entirely of the repurposed pieces of that same past. We exist where we begin, yet to remain there is death... I could not have predicted each version of me that I shifted into, but through my history, one constant has always remained true: change itself... I did not know who she was, the one waiting for me to start moving toward her. I was curious about her, all the same. I was eager to meet her.

Something like that. But you know, there's an upside here. Because when you spend so much time just intensely wanting something, and then you actually get the thing? It's magic.” All of a sudden, I feel like crying. In a good way. In the best way. Because I know exactly what she means. It's butterflies and haziness and heart eyes, but underneath all that, there's this bass line of I can't believe this. I can't believe this is me. I can't quite articulate the sweetness of that feeling. It's finding out the door you were banging on is finally unlocked. Maybe it was unlocked the whole time.