Carry On Rainbow Rowell Quotes

You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.

What you are is a fucking tragedy, Simon Snow. You literally couldn't be a bigger mess." He tries to kiss me, but I pull back- "And you like that?" "I love it." He says "Why?" "Because we match.

You have to pretend you get an endgame. You have to carry on like you will; otherwise, you can't carry on at all.

I am going to die kissing Simon Snow. Aleister Crowley, I'm living a charmed life.

You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I'd wake up every morning and think, 'This will end in flames.

Just when you think you're having a scene without Simon, he drops in to remind you that everyone else is a supporting character in his catastrophe.

It's the good things that hurt when you're missing them.

He's still looking in my eyes. Staring me down like he did that dragon, chin tilted and locked. "I'm not the Chosen One," he says. I meet his gaze and sneer. My arm is a steel band around his waist. "I choose you," I say. "Simon Snow, I choose you.

I was eleven years old, and I'd lost my mother, and my soul, and the Crucible gave me you.

The front seat is for people who've never been kidnapped by bloody numpties. Jesus Christ, Baz.

Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire. He's constantly drawing you in. And you're constantly stepping too close. And you know it's not good--that there is no good--that there's absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then... Well. Then you burn.

He smiles, and he's made of trouble.

For a moment—not even a moment, a split second—I imagine him saying, 'The truth is, I'm desperately attracted to you.' And then I imagine myself spitting in his face. And then I imagine licking it off his cheek and kissing him. (Because I'm disturbed. Ask anyone.)

Carry on, Simon.

I think I might kiss him. He's right here. And his lips are hanging open (mouth breather) and his eyes are alive, alive, alive.

I let myself slip away... Just to stay sane. Just to get through it. And when I felt myself slipping too far, I held on to the one thing I'm always sure of - Blue eyes. Bronze curls. The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me. That Simon Snow is alive. And I'm hopelessly in love with him.

It’s like being a fairy named Mary,” he goes on. “Or a vampire named Gampire,” I say. “Gampire isn’t even a proper name, Snow. You’re terrible at this game.

You were the centre of my universe and everything else spun around you.

He’s a book full of footnotes brought to life. He’s a jacket made of elbow patches.

I lean into him, because I'm cold and he's always warm. And because I like to remind him that I'm not afraid of him.

The whole prophecy is bollocks," I say. "'And one will come to end us. And one will bring his fall.' Did I also bring my own fall?" "No," Baz says. "That was me. Obviously." "How did you bring my fall? I stopped the Humdrum myself." Baz looks back at his phone, bored. "Fell in love, didn't you?

He shakes his head, and he's saying something, and I think I might kiss him. Because I've never kissed anyone before. (I was afraid I might bite.) And I've never wanted to kiss anyone but him. (I won't bite. I won't hurt him.) I just want to kiss him, then go. "Simon...," I say. And then he kisses me.

I wind my fingers in his hair. It's thicker than mine, and curlier, and it shines golden in the firelight. There's a mole on his cheek that I've wanted to kiss since I was 12. I do.

Safety, stability--it's an illusion. It's a false god, Simon. It's like clinging to a sinking raft instead of learning to swim.

You called me Simon before." "No, I didn't.

Snow kissed me last night until my mouth was sore. He kissed me so much, I was worried I’d Turn him with all my saliva. He held himself up on all fours above me and made me reach up for his mouth—and I did. I would again. I’d cross every line for him. I’m in love with him. And he likes this better than fighting.

How often do you have to drink?” “Every night, to feel good. Every few nights, to stay sane.” “Have you ever bitten anyone?” “No. I’m not a murderer.” “Does it have to be fatal every time? The biting? Couldn’t you just drink some of a person’s blood, then walk away?” “I can’t believe you’re asking me this, Snow. You, who can’t walk away from half a sandwich.

He lets his hand fall, and I catch it. Because I’m weak. Because I’m a constant disappointment to myself.

(People who tell you that slamming and bashing into things won't make you feel better haven't slammed or bashed enough.)

He's not a monster. He's just a villain. He's not a villain. He's just a boy. I'm kissing a boy. I'm kissing Baz.

I can tell she still finds me both loathsome and distasteful, but Rome wasn't built on mutual admiration.

And sometimes holes want to get bigger, but Baz was wrong—sometimes they just want to be filled.

Simon Snow, it hurts to look at you when you’re this happy. And it hurts to look at you when you’re depressed. There’s no safe time for me to see you, nothing about you that doesn’t tear my heart from my chest and leave it breakable outside my body.

Enough, Snow, I'm not the Queen.

My road to hell isn't paved with good intentions - or bad - it's just my road.

She told me later that her parents had told her to steer clear of me at school. "My mum said that nobody really knew where you came from. And that you might be dangerous." "Why didn't you listen to her?" I asked. "Because nobody knew where you came from, Simon! And you might be dangerous!" "You have the worst survival instincts." "Also, I felt sorry for you," she said. "You were holding your wand backwards.

I know fuck-all about vampires. It’s not like I got an instruction pamphlet when I was bitten.

You're so alive, Simon Snow. You got my share of it.

He looks at my face and huffs, exasperated. "Baz, you're actually, literally the only thing I have to lose. So as long as doing gay stuff in public doesn't make you hate me, I don't really care." "We're just dancing," I say. "That's hardly gay stuff." "Dancing's well gay," he says. "Even when it isn't two blokes.

If Baz thinks I’m ever letting him go, he’s wrong. I like him like this. Under my thumb. Under my hands. Not off plotting and scheming and talking to vampires. I’ve got you now, I think. I’ve finally got you where I want you.

A vampire who’s afraid of the dark, for Crowley’s sake.

Everyone’s still gossiping about where he’s been. The most popular rumours are “dark coming-of-age ceremony that left him too marked up to be in public” and “Ibiza.

She carried herself like she was exactly the size everyone else wanted to be.

I want to be someone's right now, Simon, not their happily ever after.

May you fight your own battles and forge your own wings.

Do you ever not go for the lowest blow? Like, do you ever think, 'Maybe I shouldn't say the most cruel thing just now?'" "I'm trying to be efficient.

I just wanted to tell you that i'm going to carry on. As i am.

It’s good to see you girls spending time together,” she says. “It’s good to have a life that passes the Bechdel test.

At Watford, Magic is just the air we breathe. It's not what separates us from each other; it's what keeps us together.

I’m hopelessly in love with him.

That's not the point," he said. "What kind of creep would I be if I let my girl carry something heavy while I walked along, swinging my arms?" Your girl? "The kind that respects my wishes," she said. "And my strength, and my... arms." Levi grinned some more. Because he wasn't taking her seriously. "I have a lot of respect for your arms. I like how they're attached to the rest of you.

Simon,” I say, and swallow again, “you’re being idiotic.” “Because I like this better than fighting?” “There is no ‘this’!” I protest. “You slept in my arms,” he says. “Fitfully.

Even some of our cookbooks are banned. (Though it's been centuries, at least, since the Pitches ate fairies.) (You can't even find fairies anymore.) (And it isn't because we ate them all.)

No. 9—The Wavering Wood I should take this one off the list. Fuck the Wavering Wood.

You did it, didn't you?" Baz whispers. "You defeated the Humdrum. You saved the day, you courageous fuck. You absolute nightmare.

Light a match inside your heart.

I know Simon and I will always be enemies.. But I thought maybe we'd get to a point where we didn't want to be.

Sometimes I’m glad Penny wears glasses; her eye contact is so fierce, it’s good to have a buffer.

How long does it take for a star to collapse? How many trillions of years?

I know that things will only get better if good people fight for what's important.

He swallows. Snow has the longest neck and the showiest swallow I've ever seen. His chin juts out and his Adam's apple catches - it's a whole scene.

I'm going to die kissing Simon Snow

I never thought there was a path that would lead here, a fourth-floor flat with two bedrooms and a kettle and a grey-eyed vampire sitting on the couch, messing with his new phone.

I just can’t pass the scones up if they’re there. They’re soft and light and a little bit salty. Sometimes I dream about them.

I'm always holding on by a thread! I thought the important thing was that I'm holding on!

It's a hard spell and an old spell, and it works only if you understand the Great Vowel Shift of the Sixteenth Century - and if you're stupidly in love.

Sometimes when I’m walking through the dining hall, just saying hello to people, she’ll drag me by my sleeve to hurry me up. “You have too many friends,” she’ll say. “I’m pretty sure that’s not possible. And, anyway, I wouldn’t call them all ‘friends.’” “There are only so many hours in the day, Simon. Two, three people—that’s all any of us have time for.” “There are more people than that in your immediate family, Penny.” “I know. It’s a struggle.

She saw him after seventh hour in a place she'd never seen him before, carrying a microscope down the hall on the third floor. It was at least twice as nice as seeing him somewhere she expected him to be.

It's going to be okay." Baz wraps both arms around him. "It's all right, love." Everything is starting to make sense.

But I still didn't let myself dwell on any of the good things, you know? It's the good things that'll drive you mad with missing them.

I have so much I want to tell you. But time is short. And my voice doesn't carry.

Magic separates us from the world; may nothing separate us from each other.

Simon Snow is still going to die kissing me. Just not today.

Shhh." "I just-" "Hush." "I worry-" "Don't." "But-" "Simon." "Baz?" "Here.

He's pushing me, so I push him back. His cross is rattling in my tongue and jaw. His pulse is beating in my throat. And his mouth is killing everything I'm trying to think. Simon Snow.

You don't have to laugh out loud to mock someone.

But—I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to carry on. As I am.

Maybe she feels like a jerk about leaving him at Pitch Manor on Christmas Eve. I know I do. The vibe here is very, Let's kill a virgin and write a great Led Zeppelin album

I don't suppose I ever had the choices I thought I did.

Fuck off,” I said. Which always means I’ve lost an argument. I started backing out of the tomb.

How can you be like this?' I whisper. 'How can you even trust me, after everything?' 'I'm not sure I do trust you,' he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) 'But...' He shrugs. He's rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes-because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again.

She's like Eeyore if Eeyore hung out with goats all the time instead of letting Pooh and Piglet cheer him up.

I was eleven years old, and I’d lost my mother, and my soul, and the Crucible gave me you.” “It made us roommates,” he says. I shake my head. “We were always more.” “We were enemies.” “You were the centre of my universe,” I say. “Everything else spun around you.

She's all brute force and '90s clichés.

I know I usually come down here to tell you I’m sorry. But I think today I want to tell you that I’m going to be all right. Don’t let me be one of the things that keeps you from peace, Mother. I’m all right.

Snow was a wreck at dinner. Which I might have enjoyed if I wasn't so desperate for him to stay. Everything on his plate seemed to confuse him, and he alternated between staring at his food miserably and vacuuming it up because he was clearly ravenous.

We're both staring at our joined hands. I can still feel his magic.

He smiles, and he's made of trouble. We should have dropped him in the Thames in a bag of stones. We should have left him out for the fairies.

I never thought there was a path that would lead to both of us alive.

There’s an extra storey between the second and third floors of the Cloisters. (Penny calls it “bonus content.”)

Simon, imagine what we could do with your power and my spells. We could finish the Humdrum off by dinner—and then take on hunger and world peace.

I trust you,” she says. “That doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.” Penny shrugs. “Pain is temporary.” “That doesn’t mean I won’t damage you.

I erase the word and start over. I'm working on the "Everything we still don't" list. I'm tempted to write: everything important and also: whether Simon Snow is actually gay. And: whether I'll live forever.

Go on, then," he says. "Carry on, Simon.

In America, they think that you become more powerful the more magic you use." "Just like fossil fuels." Penny glances over at me, then snorts. "Don't look so surprised," I say. "I know about fossil fuels.

There are pages ripped out and taped all over one wall. (Not taped - stuck to the wall with spells.) (And this is exactly the sort of thing I'm sick of. Like, just use some tape. Why come up with a spell for sticking paper to the wall? Tape. Exists.)

The way you were before… Simon Snow, there wasn’t a day when I believed we’d both live through it.“ “Though what?” “Life. You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I’d wake up every morning and think, ‘This will end in flames.

When I was in the coffin, I pushed myself closer. I let myself slip away.... Just to stay sane. Just to get through it. And when I felt myself slipping too far, I hold on to the thing I'm always sure of-- Blue eyes. Bronze curls. The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful mage alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me. That Simon Snow is alive. And I'm hopelessly in love with him.

Your mother was a hero. She developed a spell for gnomeatic fever. And she was the youngest headmaster in Watford history.” Baz is looking at Penny like they’ve never met. “And,” Penny goes on, “she defended your father in three duels before he accepted her proposal.” “That sounds barbaric,” I say. “It was traditional,” Baz says. “It was brilliant,” Penny says. “I’ve read the minutes.” “Where?” Baz asks her. “We have them in our library at home,” she says “My dad loves marriage rites. Any sort of family magic, actually. He and my mother are bound together in five dimensions.

I don't feel like a trauma victim. I feel like a house after a fire. And sometimes I fell like someone who died but stayed in his body. And sometimes I feel like someone else died, like someone else sacrificed everything, so that I can have a normal life. With wings. And a tail. And vampires. And magicians. And a boy in my arms, instead of a girl. And a happy ending—even if it isn't the ending I ever would have dreamt for myself, or hoped for. A chance.