Call Me Izzy Quotes

No. You don't get to call me Izzy, you don't send me letters, you don't follow me into dark corridors and try to save me from rats." "Trust me, we see a rat, it's every man for himself.

I don't care who he is. He needs to disappear." Ransom turned and called out the window. "For the love of G-d man. I have England's sweetheart bent over the desk and panting for me. Go away and come back tomorrow.

I am a strong women... I have been through... Bullying, Abuse, Heartache, Discrimination, Hate, Sexuality Judgement. I have been called... Ugly, Selfish, Heartless, Emotionless, A Freak. But all of that made me into what I am today. I am... Beautiful, Kind, Loving, ...Adorable?, Selfless, Strong. I have... Wonderful Friends, Loving Boyfriends, Caring Relatives. And this is who I am...this is what all the bad and good have turned me into..and I love it..thank you.

Izzi: Remember Moses Morales? Tom Verde: Who? Izzi: The Mayan guide I told you about. Tom Verde: From your trip. Izzi: Yeah. The last night I was with him, he told me about his father, who had died. Well Moses wouldn't believe it. Tom Verde: Izzi... Izzi: [embraces Tom] No, no. Listen, listen. He said that if they dug his father's body up, it would be gone. They planted a seed over his grave. The seed became a tree. Moses said his father became a part of that tree. He grew into the wood, into the bloom. And when a sparrow ate the tree's fruit, his father flew with the birds. He said... death was his father's road to awe. That's what he called it. The road to awe. Now, I've been trying to write the last chapter and I haven't been able to get that out of my head! Tom Verde: Why are you telling me this? Izzi: I'm not afraid anymore, Tommy.

I love you, and I won’t go away until you tell me you love me too!” “Tell him you love him,” Helen called up. “He’s scaring the whole street.

He wants me to abandon my pain just to alleviate his own. He wants me to do what women have been forced to do for millenia: bury their own hopes and ambitions so the men can chase theirs. And I won't do it. I won't.

If the school population discovers I banged two dudes in one night, the girls will call me a bitch and a slut, and the guys will high five and call me easy while flinging their own feces at each other.

A quiet meow echoes on the other side of the door though, and I can't help thinking the cat is calling out for help. I left Avery here in the slums and someone murdered her in the middle of the night. The cat is calling out for me to help his poor dead owner.

So, what exactly does ‘patrolling’ entail?” She shrugged. “Making sure the woods are clean of supes.” “Why would there be soup in-oh, ‘supes’? Like for ‘supernaturals’? Is that what you guys call us?” Izzy didn’t turn around, and it could have just been a trick of the light, but I thought the tips of her ears pinkened. “It’s just something I made up,” she mumbled, and I was very glad she had her back to me as a smile broke out over my face. “I like that.” She spun around then, and I made sure my expression was deadly serious. “I mean it,” I told her. “You know what we call ourselves, right? Prodigium.” I made a derisive snort. “The only thing lamer and more pretentious than Latin is made-up Latin.

I don’t want to get Izzy out of my system. That is clearer than ever after last night. I want all of her. Her kindness, her commitment, her multicoloured hair, and the way she always puts me in my place. I want to take her home and call her mine.

Oh, and Izzy,” I call out, as the door is about to close. “Yes, Gabe?” she says, turning to look at me with the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. “The name’s Gabriel. Now go,” I say. Bella just smiles from ear to ear and seems to understand what I’m trying to say without needing to explain.

P.S. Please don't call me Isabella. That name belongs to a really pretty girl who never wrecks her clothes and who never gets dirt under her fingernails. That's definitely not me. My name is Izzy.

I felt a sharp pang of...something. Maybe FOMO [Fear Of Missing Out, if we have any grandmas in the house], but I don't know, it's a little more than that. Why is this bothering me so much? 8.52 p.m. Lol, never mind. period just started. As you were.

Allie tried to ask me once why we call him Horse. I explained it’s because of his laugh. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna tell her it’s because of the huge fucking horse cock he’s got swingin’ between his legs.

Art as activism. Like Banksy?" "Man, Banksy's some white-ass bullshit. Sorry," he apologizes hastily, as though he might've offended my white-ass feelings. [...] "A'ight, so the dude flew out to Gaza to spray-paint a kitten on a house that'd been destroyed in an air strike. Like, the fuck? Talk about insensitive. Then our white savior has the audacity to call it art, to demand folks listen to his views on the atrocities of war, rather than the Palestinians who lived through it." He shakes his head, his hand tensing and untensing in mine. "Sorry. Shit drives me crazy sometimes.