Brittany Quotes

I'm losing control."-Brittany Mamacita, I've already lost it."-Alex

You once said you loved me. Do you still?" My sister is watching this exchange between us. She smiles warmly at me, giving me the strength to tell him the truth. "I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried desperately to forget you. I couldn't.

He’s my brother, my blood. He annoys the hell out of me most of the time, but when it comes right down to it I want to see him graduate from college and have little annoying mini-Alexes and mini-Brittanys running around in the future

I can't help but smile as I swipe a lone tear trailing down my cheek. How can I not be crazy in love with this guy? Time away from him didn't change anything. I can't deny him another chance. That would be denying myself.

It'll be impossible to protect Brittany for the rest of her life from all the other guys who want to be near her, to see her as I've seen her. Touch her as I've touch her. Man, I never want to let her go.

-You think I’ve got a big ego and an attitude problem? -I don’t think you do, Carlos. I know it. Unfortunately, it’s a Fuentes flaw. -I’d call it an asset. It’s what makes us Fuentes brothers irresistible. Carlos and Brittany

Somehow, being with Brittany brings something to my life that's missing, something ... right.

With someone you like that much, the lows are as low as the highs are high. Does that make sense?' It does. It also makes me sound bipolar.' Love will do that to a person.

[about her offer of a Swedish massage] Alex: You're not Swedish. Brittany: Yeah, well, neither are you. So if I do it wrong you'll never know the difference.

I wonder if it's medically possible to be addicted to another human being.

You don’t have to want to be in a relationship for a little bow-chicka-bow-wow.” Brittany looked at him slowly. “Did you really just say that?” “I did. And I owned it . Gonna make me a shirt that says that.

Dios mio, I think my brother lost his balls somewhere between here and Mexico. Or maybe Brittany has them zipped inside that fancy purse (of hers).

Evelyn: There's nothing wrong with embracing one's emotions. Brittany: Mom, You don't just embrace your emotions, you make love to them hard-core.

He walked backwards a few more steps and brought Brittany’s hand to his lips without taking his eyes off me. My hand tingled where he kissed her. And the bastard knew it.

Brittany and I don't date other people." "Why not?" "It's called being boyfriend and girlfriend.

When they’re together, the world could fall apart around them and they’d never notice or care as long as they have each other. About Alex and Brittany.

Did I ever tell you that Alex loves you so much he got your name tattooed all over his body? Hell, he even got your name branded into the back of his neck." "They say 'LB,' Carlos. The initials for Latino Blood." "No, no, no. You've got it all wrong. He wants everyone to think that, but in reality it means Lover of Brittany. LB, get it?

The two of us, we're the best kind of disaster. Apples and oranges. Well, more like apples and machetes.

And just so you know for the future, I like my double-chocolate chip cookies warm and soft in the middle...and without magnets glued to them." "Me, too. When you decide to bake me some, let me know.

Truth be told, I liked that blurriness. That line where reality and fiction jutted up against each other.

Brittany Ellis, I'm goin' to prove to you I'm the guy you believed in ten months ago, and I'm gonna be the successful man you dreamed I could be. My plan is to ask you to marry me four years from now, the day we graduate."'And I guarantee you a lifetime of fun, probably one with no lack of fightin', for you are one passionate mamacita . . . but I definitely look forward to some great make-up sessions. Maybe one day we can even go back to Fairfield and help make it the place my dad always hoped it would be. You, me, and Shelley. And any other Fuentes or Ellis family member who wants to be a part of our lives. We'll be one big, crazy Mexican-American family. What do you think? Mujer, you own my soul.

I began wondering if there was some kind of Watsonian guide for the care and keeping of Holmeses.

We weren't Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I was ok with that, I thought. We had things they didn't, too. Like electricity, and refrigerators. And Mario Kart.

I wanted the two of us to be complicated together, to be difficult and engrossing and blindingly brilliant.

Kiss me to see if we still have it. 'Cause you own my heart,soul,and everything else in between.

Reading took me away from myself, so I tried to be reading all the time.

Brittany, I love hangin' with you. Shit, when I get to school I scan the halls lookin' for you. As soon as I catch sight of these angelic streaks of sunshine," I say, fingering her hair, "I know I can make it through the day.

Listen, I don't want to be an asshole to you,' I say. So much for the Alex Fuentes Show. 'I know. It's your image, what Alex Fuentes is all about. It's your brand, your logo... dangerous, deadly, hot and sexy Mexican. I wrote the book on creating an image. I wasn't aiming for the blonde bimbo look, though. More like the perfect, untouchable look.' Woah. Rewind. Brittany called me hot and sexy.... 'You do realize you called me hot.' 'As if you didn't know.' I didn't know Brittany Ellis considered me hot. 'For the record, I thought you were untouchable. But now that I know you think I'm a hot, sexy Mexican god...' 'I never said the word "god,"' I put my finger to my lips. 'Shh. Let me enjoy this fantasy for a minute.' I closed my eyes.

Forgiving yourself, believing in yourself and choosing to love yourself are the best gifts one could receive.

My name is Arianna Morganna Brittany DuLac--you can imagine why I went by the name Ryan.

I was maybe the only person to ever have his imaginary friend made real.

So Uncle Stuart is marrying that lady? Mom says she's going to be our aunt Amy. She's okay except she would't try any peanut butter M&M chocolate chip fudge cookies. They were good- you ate five, remember? But she said she was on a special diet, and couldn't eat something called carbs. We told her we didn't put any carbs in our cookies, just M&Ms, but she said M&Ms were carbs. Uncle Mitch, what's carbs? email to Uncle Mitch from Haily and Brittany

you think you've never been wrong before?"-alex "sure i have why just last week I bought bobbi brown sandwash petal lip gloss when the pink blossom color would have looked so much better with my complexion. needless to say the purchase was a total disaster"- brittney "ill bet"-alex. "havent you ever been wrong before?"-brittany "absolutely. last week, when i robbed that bank over by the walgreens, I told the teller to hand over all the fifties he had in the till. what i really should have asked for was the twenties 'cause there were way more twenties than fifties"- alex "what a disaster"- brittany

I don’t need someone to fight for me. I can fight for myself.

Hold yourself back, or heal yourself back together. You decide.

I tended to spend too much time with my favorite things, loved them too hard until I wore them down. After a while, they became more like a shorthand for who I was and less like things I actually enjoyed.

Do you have ovaries?" Jacob asked. I shot him a look. "Yes" He slid down the back of the couch and sat beside Brittany. "Then how are you not intrested?

You must always remember this: Have courage, and be kind. You have more kindness in your little finger than most people possess in their whole body. And it has power. More than you know.

For Brittanie There will always be men who have fishhooks for fingers. There will always be women with wet, sharp mouths. It is okay to get caught up in them. It is not okay to drown. Don’t you ever let another human being tear you apart. Remember that you have claws and teeth, too. Remember that you are better off whole.

It was strange walking through the empty apartment. My battered purple room was gone, Brittany’s bruised blue was gone. Two coats covered everything. It was like none of it had ever happened.

You have my implicit forgiveness, you know, even when you’re driving me crazy.” . . . “Jamie.” “Charlotte.” “Do come home soon. It won’t be London without you.” “You never knew me in London.” “I know. I intend to fix that.

It’s strange to grieve for your former self, and still I think it’s something that any girl understands. I’ve shed so many skins, I hardly know what I am now—muscle, maybe, or just memory. Perhaps just the will to keep going.

Being a woman with a contrary opinion does not render me hysterical.

Jamie Watson is far smarter than you think. He isn’t my accomplice. He’s no one’s accomplice. And he isn’t guilty of anything.

It's the days you have every right to breakdown and fall apart, yet choose to show up anyway that matter most. Don't diminish the small steps that others can't see.

No one knows your truth but you. If you're secure in yourself, no one and no(thing) can touch you.

You really should take up boxing, or fencing—” “Fencing? What century are you from?” “—or solving crimes.” “Are you prescribing me your company, Doctor?” “Detective, you can read me like a book.” She lifted her glass, and I clinked mine against it.

I felt like I was being pulled through a dark, dank wardrobe into some boozy Narnia.

Since you came back from summer break, our entire relationship is about fooling around. We never talk anymore, and I'm sick of feeling guilty for not ripping my clothes off and spreading my legs to prove I love you.

Recovery is full of ups and downs. There is no such thing as a linear life. But you can always turn your setbacks into setups to come back stronger.

Soon, when all is well, you're going to look back on this period of your life and be so glad that you never gave up.

What do normal people talk about?

She was altogether colorless and severe, and still she managed to be beautiful. Not the way that girls are generally beautiful, but more like the way a knife catches the light, makes you want to take it in your hands.

I felt it. Felt everything. I knew I wanted to erase myself from the top down, like a drawing, and that still I wanted someone to touch my edges and tell me that they loved me despite them.

Whatever you did today is enough. Whatever you felt today is valid. Whatever you thought today isn't to be judged. Repeat the above each day.

You're so critical. Oh, God, I'd do anything for you to stop blaming me for every little thing that goes wrong. Love me for who I am. Love Shelley for who she is. Stop focusing on the bad stuff because life is just too damn short.

God, I hate teenagers. – Detective Shepard.

A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany’s pants. “It’s hers,” I say. “Answer it,” Isa Instructs. I already feel like I’ve kidnapped the girl. Now I’m gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket. “Contesta,” Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish. “I am,” I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone. “I’ll do it,” Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany’s ass. I whack his hand away. “Get your hands off her.” “Geez, man, I was just tryin’ to help.” My response is a glare.

But he looks no more than thirty. He's very handsome-- so much you will admit; nor will you deny that he is very wealthy and very powerful; the greatest nobleman in Brittany. He will make me a great lady.' 'God made you that, Aline.

Seeing color doesn’t mean you’re a racist. It means your eyes work, but that you are hopefully able to see color not for a discrepancy in normal, but as a beautiful component of diversity.

Perfectionism is searching for faults to justify low self-esteem. It is a guaranteed failure and fantasy.

No food will ever hurt you as much as an unhealthy mind.

Dreyfus once wrote from Devil's Island that he would see the most glorious birds. Many years later in Brittany he realized they had only been seagulls... For me they will always be glorious birds.

Here I am on the shore of Brittany. Let the cities light up in the evening. My day is done. I am leaving Europe. The sea air will burn my lungs. Lost climates will tan me. I will swim, trample the grass, hung, and smoke especially. I will drink alcohol as strong as boiling metal--just as my dear ancestors did around their fires.

From the sound of pattering raindrops I recaptured the scent of the lilacs at Combray; from the shifting of the sun's rays on the balcony the pigeons in the Champs-Elysées; from the muffling of sounds in the heat of the morning hours, the cool taste of cherries; the longing for Brittany or Venice from the noise of the wind and the return of Easter. Summer was at hand, the days were long, the weather was warm. It was the season when, early in the morning, pupils and teachers repair to the public gardens to prepare for the final examinations under the trees, seeking to extract the sole drop of coolness vouchsafed by a sky less ardent than in the midday heat but already as sterilely pure.

I want to be good without being nice. Can I do that?

Just because something is familiar, doesn't mean it's safe. And just because something feels safe, doesn't mean it's good for you.

And even so, before I had ever met Charlotte Holmes, I was sure she was the only friend I would make in that miserable place.

I’m a teenage girl. He is my boy best friend. We would be everything to each other until we couldn’t.

That was when I remembered rules 1 and 2. “Search often for opiates and dispose of as needed.” “Begin with the hollowed-out heels of Holmes’s boots.

Everyone kept asking me if I wanted to die, Well, no. No I didn't want to die. But no one ever asked me if I wanted to live.

You don't have to preserve your pain in order to prove that it was real.

Your personal growth is the only thing that matters. You own and write your story; no one else does. Believe in your unique steps up the mountain.

You know that girl who sat at lunch with us today, Brittani Monroe?” "Yep." "What do you think about her?" "She’s a slut with a stripper name.

Trust the timing of your life. Keep focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, be kind, and follow your heart. Doors will open effortlessly, but first you have to be ready to walk through.

A huge part of recovery and life -is slowing down and accepting the unKNOWN. This is how you get to KNOW –yourself.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.” “That’ll be written on a few tombstones before this is over,

I wanted to structure a day where a hypothetical random snapshot of me looked like Carrie Bradshaw in her kimono, totally relaxed, not Brittany Murphy in Girl, Interrupted, diddling an old chicken under her bed. The

She looked like a whisper made real.

What are you hiding? Is it something from others, or from yourself. Find your truth. The more you show up, the more you'll be found.

She smiled at me, that one particular smile I hardly ever saw, the one that could open padlocks, Yale locks, bank vaults, the one that was a trapdoor down into everything.

Jesus, come on. Charlotte’s sitting outside, alone. You guys are just sad without each other. There’s like this obvious empty space next to you. – Lena

You are allowed to float around having no damned idea what you want to do with yourself with no actual time frame in which you need to figure it out.

I can influence others, but I'm not responsible for others.

Life is not a puzzle to be solved. Life is a masterpiece that you create.

It appears that I am willing to put with many things for the sake of Jamie Watson . . . I can tell he’s hiding a laugh when he curls his mouth in like he’s eating a lemon. Sometimes I say terrible things just to see him do it . . . He flagellates himself rather a lot, as this narrative shows. He shouldn’t. He is lovely and warm and quite brave and a bit heedless of his own safety and by any measure the best man I’ve ever known. I’ve discovered that I am very clever when it comes to caring about him, and so I will continue to do so. Later today I will ask him to spend the rest of winter break at my family’s home in Sussex . . . Watson will say yes, I’m sure of it. He always says yes to me. – Charlotte

Watson.” “What?” “I’m sorry I picked a fight with you,” Holmes said sleepily. “But you should know I had a good reason.” “I know, I was being an idiot.” “No, it wasn’t your fault. The note said you’d be killed if you stayed, so I fixed it. I was horrible until you went away.

When you feel insecure or like you don’t measure up, remind yourself of how far you’ve come. And in that moment, you’ll realize you’ve climbed mountains and can overcome anything.

Just because you know something about yourself doesn’t mean you should be forgiven for it.

Holmes wasn’t a myth, or a king. She was a person. And to have a relationship with a person, you had to treat them like one.

Even someone as disguisting as Dobson deserved the chance to grow up and become a better person.

There is a fine line between challenging yourself and overwhelming yourself.

Not all battles are visible and neither are the victories.

Recovery is hard. Regret is harder.

Maybe this is what happened when you built a friendship on a foundation of mutual disaster. It collapsed the second things righted themselves, left you desperate for the next earthquake.

The sun was rising in the distance, pulled up by its lazy, invisible string, and the sky was shot through with color. Her hair was washed in gold, her cheeks, in gold, and her eyes were as knowing as a psychic’s.

But tonight I'll go alone. You're about as stealthy as a lame elephant. See you later." She patted me on the shoulder and took off down the path, leaving me behind, both charmed and insulted. The side effects of hanging around Charlotte Holmes.

My mother had been monologuing about how much I’d like it there while I packed up my closet in silence, wondering if I flung myself out the window, would it properly kill me or just break both my legs.

The most important day is the day you decide you’re good enough for you. It’s the day you set yourself free.

Sometimes the process of growth looks a lot like destruction and pain. But you'll realize with time that you're not breaking; you're healing.

You're not a broken soul. You're a whole soul who's just feeling a little lost as you try a new path up the mountain.

I love you. I've never in my life loved anything more.

No two eating disorders are the same. No two individuals are the same. No two paths to recovery are the same. But everyone's strength to reach recovery IS the same.

He put it into drive and turned on the headlights. And there she was, standing in their white glow. Holmes’s skin was smoked black from the explosion, her hair flecked with snow. Her violin dangled from her fingers. She opened her mouth, and I saw her say my name. I was out of the car in a heartbeat, and in the next, she was in my arms . . . “You’re alive,” I murmured, tucking my head over hers. “I’m so sorry.

There’s not a lot you can control, you know. Where you’re born. Who your family is. What people want from you, and what you are, underneath it all. When you have so little say in it all, I think it’s important to exercise a measure of control when given the opportunity.” She smiled, ducking her head. “So I blow things up.

Where does my greatest joy intersect with the world’s greatest need? Let me go there.

Eating disorder recovery becomes possible when you keep making the next right decision over and over. With time, these decisions become automatic.

Number fifteen: if you wait for full disclosure from a Holmes, it might be years before you learn a damn thing.

There was a kind of relief in it, the giving up.

I have a rainy-day fund, you know," she said, not quite looking at me. "Until recently, it was raining...rather a lot. But I...I've been trying to use an umbrella.

You're an asshole." "And you're a bitch," he says. "A bitch with a kick-ass smile and eyes that can seriously screw with a guy's head.

I was somebody who only wanted to see the world through paintings, never a photograph.

Every version of you is interesting to me.

You aren't doing "nothing" when you choose to put your well-being first. In fact, this is the key to having everything.

You are going to fail at a lot of things, so when you do, do it on such a grand scale that half the room gives you a standing ovation, and the other half gives you the middle finger.

Have I missed anything, Watson?” “Were you going to tell him about the molted snakeskin under the chair cushion he’s sitting on, or should I?” With an undignified yelp, Milo leapt to his feet. “Oh, yes,” Holmes said blandly. “That. Peterson, do check the walls for a rattlesnake.

Your half empty.. A broken glass, I love you can sound so beautiful Until you stop to listen That terrible background noise, you have no idea how bad I want to hold you But I’m afraid I’ll cut my hand.

You can’t fall apart yet.” She nodded, her face turned from me. “Come here,” I said, moving over in the bed. “If you really don’t mind my being patient zero.” She swallowed her tears. I pulled back the sheet, and she crawled in beside me, putting her head on my chest.

It's surprising how much free time and productivity you gain when you lose the busyness in your mind.

Recovery is a verb, not a noun. You have to be an active participant in order to continuously improve.

I don't have the perfect roadmap drawn out, but I do know which roads I'll never drive down again.

Just because the dates change, does not mean you have to change. The continuous path towards self-improvement is a timeless process.

I'd prefer to think that we aren't all so mercilessly bound to our pasts.

There is a fine line between stubbornness and stupidity as well as intensity and insanity.

You don't have to stay committed to something just because you're good at it.

Trust the unknown. Trust yourself. Let go of searching for answers and the answers will appear.

By the time I realized I even had a heart at all, it already belonged to you.

I tried to fight the feeling that I was a guest star in my own life.

If only you knew how beautiful you are unconditionally. Don't you know it's enough if all you do is breathe?

Eating disorders are insidious and subtly manipulative. The behaviors that initially feel like relief are the same ones that will eventually ruin you.

You know, I told Dad not to tell you about that whole near-death thing. I said that you'd overreact, and I was right." There was a long pause, and then the shouting got somewhat louder.

How about we really steal Brittany's thunder by giving the London paparazzi an exclusive?" "What sort of exclusive?" "Let's show them how much I love Morgan Abbot." "Love?" Was I really hearing this? "You... are in love with me?" "Totally. One hundred percent head over heels in love with you, Morg. Have been ever since you led me on that goofy chase around the White House.

Do you think about making love with me?" I lie awake most nights, fantasizing about sleeping next to her ... loving her. "Right now, muneca, makin' love to you is the only thing on my mind.

Girls could be so profligate with their love, as though by spreading it wide, they would induce the world to love them back. As though the world wasn’t going to take that love and beat them with it.

When we first met, I had only been trying to survive, and he had snuck in, somehow, when I was at my lowest, and now I didn’t know myself without him.

It doesn't matter what others think. This is about YOU. Create a life that you genuinely love with your whole heart and start with yourself.

Without each other, we could, quite literally, die.

My mum was cross with Milo for teasing me. He kept telling me Santa Claus was real.

the more I seek Him the more I notice flowers landing next to my feet birds singing outside my window all love letters from the God who knows no coincidence

Chocolate can manage a broken heart.

In another century, Holmes, Watson had said, you would have been burned as a witch. "Let them try," I said aloud, and rolled the delivery door up and open.

Wuz.’ They spelled it ‘wuz.’ ‘Wuz’! I’m in AP English! I read a lot! I read big books. Big f***ing books! I read Tolstoy, and Faulkner, and - ‘wuz’?

I’d always hated those films—they’d portrayed Dr. Watson as a bumbling idiot, and Sherlock Holmes as an automaton.

There is no right or wrong way to recover. There is only the decision to do so.

Mindset is everything. Like the eye of a storm -find the sunshine and calm within you, even if there is chaos outside of you.

In that moment, I loved him more than anything else.

Once, I had loved her so much it was like a needle through my heart. Maybe I still did. Somehow, though, it seemed beside the point.

All I know, in fact, is this: Men are dying to be let in on the secret pleasures of girlhood. They feel cheated out of ease and glamour, friend-kisses and hushed gossip.

I promise no food will ever hurt you as much as a negative mind.

After Watson held a pillow so that I could punch it, after he'd cried in the bathroom where he thought I couldn't hear, we put on sweatpants and went down to the twenty-four-hour-off-license and bought as much ice-cream as we could carry.

I imagine she'd do anything to keep you alive. But giving her your heart is like handing a glass figurine to a child. She'll flip it over, peer through it like a lends. Shake it to see if it makes a sound. In the end, it will slip her hands and shatter. In the end, it's your fault. You were the one who gave it to her.

It doesn't matter who you used to be; what matters is who you decide to be today. You are not your mistakes. You are not your mishaps. You are not your past. You are not your wounds. You can decide differently today and at every moment. Remember that. You are offered a new opportunity with each breath to think, decide, choose and act differently – in a way that supports you in being all that you are capable of being. You are not less than. You are enough.

Healing requires you to be vulnerable and strong at the same time.

Holmes, I don’t mind it. there are worse things in the world than making new friends. Murder. Kidnapping. Scorpions. “I’d take the scorpions over socialising any day.

...Life had handed me a different set of cards and I was going to have to play my hand either way.

Make a promise to yourself that you will always choose growth over safe and dreams over fear.

There needs to be a German compound word for feeling both guilty and enraged.

The reality was my life wasn't miserable because I was curvy; I was miserable because I thought I'd be happier if I were thinner.

Recovery doesn't mean putting your life on hold. Recovery means holding on so you can live your best life.

I belonged here, I thought, with her, as surely as anyone belonged anywhere. As weird as here was.

When you feel insecure or like you don't measure up -remind yourself of how far you've come. And in the moment you'll realize you've climbed mountains and can overcome anything.

I’ve got to find Holmes.” “I guess that means you haven’t heard. Oh, Jamie, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. But there’s been an accident. A horrible, horrible accident.

Needing help doesn't have a look, but asking for it always looks beautiful.

I couldn’t atone for anyone’s mistakes, but I had two hands, and I could help.

someone you knew so well you could imagine them beside you, even when they were across an ocean, living out another life.

Sometimes God wants you to withstand the fire, not just the pouring rain that people put on you. Life is about makeing it through the fire with God, not without him.

Recovery is hard. Staying in your disorder is Hell.

There are many ways of taking responsibility. We don’t always have to pay for our sins with our blood, or by sacrificing our futures.

Authenticity is the practice of unlearning all the heavily-distorted, narrow-minded views of what you were told to be, and instead, being who you truly want to be.

You can't be spontaneous within reason.

I miss you too. I miss you like breathing. Have I already said that? I do, though. I miss you like naan pizza and builder’s tea. Like you’re the home I never knew I had.

She looked down at her book and traced the letters of the title with her finger. "Why do you think I like to get lost in these?" she said, holding it up. "Real life sometimes sucks.

Side note: is anyone else grateful social media wasn’t a thing when they were a teenager? It’s like Draco Malfoy and all three Heathers smooshed into one invisible organism that thrives on Internet memes and passive aggression.

Those in whom the faculty of reason is predominant, and who most skillfully dispose their thoughts with a view to render them clear and intelligible, are always the best able to persuade others of the truth of what they lay down, though they should speak only in the language of Lower Brittany, and be wholly ignorant of the rules of rhetoric; and those whose minds are stored with the most agreeable fancies, and who can give expression to them with the greatest embellishment and harmony, are still the best poets, though unacquainted with the art of poetry.

I am so dying to know what cookies are slang for.” “Probably his cock,” Jacob plopped down on the arm of the couch. “Oh my God,” I said, taking a handful of chips. I needed the calorie fortitude for where this conversation was heading. Brittany nodded. “Makes sense then. I mean, with the whole not sharing cookies with ugly girls.” “I don’t think he really meant that,” I said, popping a chip in my mouth. “So, back to our history notes…” “Fuck history. Back to Cam’s cock.” Jacob said. “Do you know, if cookies is a code word for cock, then that means his cock was in your mouth.

She was rumpled, undone, her hair coming out of its elastic to curl in tendrils around her face. There was something I had to say to her, I thought, something necessary, something right at the tip of my tongue. I guess she knew it before I did. Leaning over, she smoothed my hair back from my forehead. I closed my eyes at her touch. And so it was a surprise when she kissed me on the lips.

Oh my God,” I said as she startled. “Oh my God. You just wanted to come here to—” “There are excellent opportunities for observation and deduction here.” “—to dance.” I was trying very hard not to laugh. “Would you like to?” “Yes,” she said, and fairly dragged me out onto the floor.

You will then. Listen here...I've always got this to look forward to: I'll settle down by that man's side. I'll be as virtuous as any woman. I've made up my mind to it and I'll be it. And I'll be bored stiff for the rest of my life. Except for one thing. I can torment that man. And I'll do it. Do you understand how I'll do it? There are many ways. But if the worst comes to the worst I can always drive him silly...by corrupting the child!' She was panting a little, and round her brown eyes the whites showed. 'I'll get even with him. I can. I know how, you see. And with you, through him, for tormenting me. I've come all the way from Brittany without stopping. I haven't slept...But I can...

Take a chance. Don’t fear change. Life won’t hand you your dreams. Every time a door closes or you let go of something, you will find that there is room for new possibilities to enter. You aren’t saying goodbye. You are saying hello.

When I saw a story about a stolen painting on the front page of the newaspaper, I told my mother that Charlotte Holmes and I were going to solve the case. My mother cut me off saying, "Jamie, if you try to do anything like that before you turn eighteen, I will sell every last one of your books in the night, starting with your autographed Neil Gaiman.

You were kind of mean to Brittany,” Holly said. “Was I? Trying to be protective, I guess. I have a problem with cheerleaders, sorority sisters, gangs, committees, groups, anything pack-related.” She shrugged. “Yeah, you’re not really a joiner.” I was never much for cheerleaders or jocks myself, especially in high school. I always knew that kind of popularity was short term, but when you’re a teenager it seemed like the most important thing in the world. But Holly was only twelve.

It's amazing how much power a smile holds. It's contagious and brightens people's day. It's also the most powerful camouflage. For that person who seems to have it all together is merely masking the pain of drowning tears. Don't be so quick to assume.

John H. Watson might have been many things - a doctor, a storyteller, and by most accounts a kind and decent man-but he clearly wasn't a zoologist. There's no such thing as a swamp adder. And the idea that Sherlock Holmes deduced its existence from a saucer of milk is ridiculous- snakes have zero interest in milk. They also can't hear anything but vibrations, so they wouldn't hear a whistle. But they do breathe, so a snake couldn't survive in a locked safe.

I kept thinking of a film I’d seen late at night, years ago, where a boy and girl wandered a city all night long, talking and falling a little bit in love. They’d been in Europe. They’d agreed to meet again the next year if they still felt the same about each other.

There is a type of courage that cannot always be seen. It's a bravery that you have to choose for yourself. You use it in the little, seemingly insignificant choices and decisions you make each day. Keep making these tiny, good choices over and over until you realize your whole life is different and the hero who saved you is yourself.

I don't cry, as a rule. Nothing good comes out of fighting, i'll give you that, but crying? For a moment, you might feel a touch of release, but for me that's always been followed hard by waves of shame, and helplessness. I hate feeling helpless. I'll do anything to avoid it.

Out in the stone-pile the toad squatted with its glowing jewel-eyes and, maybe, its memories. I don't know if you'll admit a toad could have memories. But I don't know, either, if you'll admit there was once witchcraft in America. Witchcraft doesn't sound sensible when you think of Pittsburgh and subways and movie houses, but the dark lore didn't start in Pittsburgh or Salem either; it goes away back to dark olive groves in Greece and dim, ancient forests in Brittany and the stone dolmens of Wales. All I'm saying, you understand, is that the toad was there, under its rocks, and inside the shack Pete was stretching on his hard bed like a cat and composing himself to sleep. ("Before I Wake...")

With the air of long practice, Holmes waited until Milo raised his mug to his lips, and then reached up to whack his elbow. Coffee splattered down his front. She smiled her black-cat smile. "When we're finished here, I'll fetch you a bleach pen and a new shirt," Peterson said to a sputtering Milo.

I couldn't tell you what was in her head. I couldn't even guess. But I was beginning to realize I liked that, the not knowing. I could trust her despite it. If she was a place unto herself, I might have been lost, blindfolded, and cursing my bad directions, but I think I saw more of it than anyone else, all the same.

The only way to move forward is to focus on the good in your life and the good that you are doing for others and yourself. My past has shown me things in life, others and myself that I wouldn't wish upon anyone, but I can choose to pick up the pieces and build a beautiful life for myself and help others to do the same.

Instead, I realized that people are allowed to say whatever they want to me about my weight, but it’s entirely up to me how much power I let those words have over me. I’m not obligated or required to accept negative commentary about my looks. I’m not less confident or honest for ignoring that it’s there. I’m just confident enough to know it’s not true.

There's not a lot you can control, you know. Where you're born. Who your family is. What people want from you, and what you are, underneath it all. When you have so little say in it all, I think it's important to exercise a measure of control when given the opportunity." She smiled, ducking her head "So I blow things up." "Did you hear that? You almost said something profound. You came so close .

Forget about that and kiss me," I say. I weave my hands in her hair. She wraps her arms around my neck as I trace the valley between her lips with my tongue. Parting her lips, I deepen the kiss. It's like a tango, first moving slow and rhythmic and then, when we're both panting and our tongues collide, the kiss turns into a hot, fast dance I never want to end. Carmen's kisses may have been hot, but Brittany's are more sensual, sexy, and extremely addictive. We're still in the car, but it's cramped and the front seats don't give us enough room. Before I know it, we've moved to the backseat. Still not ideal, but I hardly notice. I'm so getting into her moans and kisses and hands in my hair. And the smell of vanilla cookies. I'm not going to push her too far tonight. But without thinking, my hand slowly moves up her bare thigh. "It feels so good," she says breathlessly. I lean her back while my hands explore on their own. My lips caress the hollow of her neck as I ease down the strap to her dress and bra. In response, she unbuttons my shirt. When it's open, her fingers roam over my chest and shoulders, searing my skin. "You're . . . perfect," she pants. Right now I'm not gonna argue with her. Moving lower, my tongue follows a path down to her silky skin exposed to the night air. She grabs the back of my hair, urging me on. She tastes so damn good. Too good. !Caramelo! I pull away a few inches and capture her gaze with mine, those shining sapphires glowing with desire. Talk about perfect. "I want you, chula," I say, my voice hoarse.

First things first, I'm going to tell you why I'm fat, because I actually get this question a lot, much in the way people are asked how they got into live-action role playing or funeral home cosmetology. The answer I'd like to give to people who ask me that question is that God made us all different, and she made some people round-shaped, like me, and some people asshole-shaped, like you. Too direct? Fine, here's the deal. Most kids inherit their best qualities from their parents. I inherited mental illness and fat thighs. Oh, and astigmatism and course body hair.

I came at her like a snake. "I am fully done with other people telling me what to do with my history," I said. "My past made me who I am. There is no way to wipe it clean. I am the evidence. If you look at me and see track marks and too-skinny arms and hands that know how to hold a gun and a brain that is sharper and faster than yours, then that is not my problem. Do you hear me? I have regrets, and I have made mistakes, but I am who I am. I'm done pretending that I've wholly remade myself, that I'm going to ... to hie myself away in some lecture hall for the next four years to make you all comfortable." She was backed up against the door, now, her arms wrapped around herself, and I didn't care. "If you want to stop seeing it, you'll have to stop seeing me, and I am not going to disappear.

I lay my fantasy in the backseat of Isa's car and slide in next to her. She snuggles up, using me as her personal pillow, her blond curls sprawled over my crotch. I close my eyes for a second, trying to get the image out of my head. And I don't know what to do with my hands. My right one is on the door armrest. My left one hovers over Brittany. I hesitate. Who am I kidding? I'm not a virgin. I'm an eighteen-year-old guy who can deal with having a hot, passed-out girl next to me. Why am I afraid of putting my arm where it's comfortable, right over her midsection? I hold my breath as I settle my arm on her. She cuddles closer and I'm feeling weird and light-headed. Either it's the aftereffects from the joint or . . . I don't want to think about the "or." Her long hair is wrapped around my thigh. Without thinking, I weave my hands in her hair and watch as the silky strands slowly fall through the V's between my fingers.

Jamie Watson," he said. "Do you know, you look just like your father when I met him. Which is making all of this quite a bit stranger for me, so could you please get out of the bed you're sharing with my niece?" I scrambled to my feet. "We're not - I'm not - it's very nice to meet you." Behind me, Holmes was snickering, and I rounded on her. "Come on, really? Some backup would be nice." "So you want me to give him the details, then?" "Do you want me to give you a shovel so you can keep on digging me this hole?" "Please," she shot back. "I'd rather watch. You're doing such a nice job of it, after all.

Spring, in Brittany, is milder than spring in Paris, and bursts into flower three weeks earlier. The five birds that herald its appearance—the swallow, the oriole, the cuckoo, the quail, and the nightingale—arrive with the breezes that refuge in the bays of the Armorican peninsula.[28] The earth is covered over with daisies, pansies, jonquils, daffodils, hyacinths, buttercups, and anemones, like the wastelands around San Giovanni of Laterano and the Holy Cross of Jerusalem in Rome. The clearings are feathered with tall and elegant ferns; the fields of gorse and broom blaze with flowers that one may take at first glance for golden butterflies. The hedges, along which strawberries, raspberries, and violets grow, are adorned with hawthorn, honeysuckle, and brambles whose brown, curving shoots burst forth with magnificent fruits and leaves. All the world teems with bees and birds; hives and nests interrupt the child’s every footstep. In certain sheltered spots, the myrtle and the rose-bay flourish in the open air, as in Greece; figs ripen, as in Provence; and every apple tree, bursting with carmine flowers, looks like the big bouquet of a village bride.

I'm willing to find out what this thing is going on between us. Are you?" "If we weren't outside," he says, "I'd show you--" I cut him off by grabbing the thick hair at the base of his neck and pulling that gorgeous head of his down. If we can't exactly have privacy right now, I'll settle for being real. Besides, everyone who we need to keep this a secret from is in school. Alex keeps his hands at his side, but when I part my lips, he groans against my mouth and his wrench drops to the ground with a loud clink. His strong hands wrap around me, making me feel protected. His velvet tongue mingles with mine, creating an unfamiliar melting sensation deep within my body. This is more than making out, it's . . . well, it feels like a lot more. His hands never stop moving; one circles my back while the other plays with my hair. Alex isn't the only one exploring. My hands are roving all over him, feeling his muscles tense beneath my hands and heightening my awareness of him. I touch his jaw and the roughness of a day's growth scratches my skin

Anwen uncrossed her arms, adjusted her skirt. She glanced from me to Watson. "If it's not an imposition," she said. "You can come too, Jamie. If you want." At that, I pinched his leg. "No!" he yelped. "No, go on. I, ah. Have a lecture." "Are you sure?" I ask him, sniffling. "I'm sure," he said, and reached out, very gently, to brush away a tear from my face. His dark eyes softened. He really was a better actor than I gave him credit for. "I'll see you later, pumpkin." As I led Anwen out to the street, I texted from my bag: Watson? Yes, pumpkin? New condition: you cease and desist all gourd-related nicknames. Done. But pinch me again, and I'll start calling you pickle. Do that, and I will find and them publish your diaries in a website with a vociferous comments section. Thought I was not a gourd, I was most definitely not a vinegar-soaked phallic object.