Cm Stunich Quotes

There's a monster living inside of me, eating little bits of me everyday, and I can't seem to stop it. It makes me do things I don't want to do, say things I don't want to say.

Relationships can't be measured with a clock or a calendar, Never. It's about getting each other. You get me, and I get you. That's the only thing I give a shit about.

The man was rude, crude, and inappropriate. I was taken with him the moment I walked in the door, and I knew the first moment I saw him that it was going to be raw, it was going to be ugly, and I was going to enjoy every damn minute of it.

There are only three kinds of kisses in this world: secret ones that nobody sees, the fake ones that everybody sees, and the real ones that only two people see. This one was one of those and I'll be damned, but it rocked my friggin' world.

And a mistake made twice isn't really a mistake at all.

The hardest hearts are forged in fire; the weakest bend under their will. And revenge … is wicked sweet.

When you start something, make sure that you're willing to take the time to finish it right because, honey, the work you put into it will be more than worth it in the end. The best things always are.

I had a sudden and irrational fear that I was going to turn into Anastasia Steele and start spouting off things about my inner goddess and referring to my fucking cunt as down there.

I take a step forward but Naomi stops me with a hand on my stomach. Like a lost, little puppy I obey. Good Lord, where did my balls go?

If it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.

Reading. I can get lost in a world and spend days there. Besides, reading a book gives me a goal. It's that sense of purpose that puts a temporary bandage over my uncertainty and lets me waste away the rest of the day without anymore negative thoughts.

Sometimes pain is pretty, to the people who have too much of it,

He's my..." It takes me the longest moment in history to answer this question. "He's my soul mate.

Just tell me you're mine, I'm yours, and you won't kiss, fuck or otherwise let any other man batter dip his corn dog with you.

Men come and go, but best friends are irreplaceable.

Roses are red, Violets are blue, Never Ross, I heart the fuck out of you.

No lies, remember? I'm dead fucking serious here. I am like, head over friggin' heels, butterflies and puppies, hearts and fucking kitty cats in love with you.

She felt trapped, but she didn't have to. The world is wide open and ready, waiting for us to escape this bubble and join it.

(...) before they actually admit to the big 'L' word. Love or lust - what's the big, damn deal? You're going to  fuck either way, right?

It wasn't necessarily that I wasn't a fan of fairies. Really. It wasn't that. It was that I wasn't a fan of being taken hostage by a group of fairies.

When you exist in the ugly, you learn to live in the beautiful.

Nobody listens when bad girls cry.

I pull my cigarette from my mouth and take a look around, meeting the eyes of my friends carefully,so they'll know how serious I am right now. First person to laugh gets punched.“I'm in love.

I can tell you that she changed my life, and I think, somehow, I changed hers. We're good for each other, Never and me. Just two tortured souls tangled together for life. Just two, tortured fucking souls in love.

I'm going to fall in love with him. I'm going to be head over heels and my stomach is going to hurt every time he walks into a room. I'm going to worry about him whenever he isn't there, and there are going to be times where I'll hate him. Because that's what love is. It's a kaleidoscope of emotions, all sorts of different colors blending together into one.

I think the day handwriting disappears for good is the day humanity is really and truly fucked.

Ain't no way I'm letting her out of this now. Not after that confession. It was as epic as the fucking storm and ten times as unexpected.

Enjoy the ride because sometimes that's all you have. Sometimes, on the other side there's nothing but a trash can a whole bunch of people there to watch you throw up in it.

I will always hear Tyson Monroe McCabe. Whether it's a whisper, a scream, no matter what Ty says, I will always hear him.

Once it becomes a secret, it's hard to let it out. If you don't keep it inside to begin with, it doesn't get the chance to fester and rot. So, honesty is my policy.

Perversion is just another form of art. It's like painting or drawing or sculpting. Except instead of paint, us perverts use sex as our medium. 

When you see another lonely traveler walking the same sad, strange path you almost fell off before … it's only right to see if you can guide them down a different road.

Your boyfriend's real fuckin' nice. What a cutie. I heart the fuck out of him. What a catch.

Books—even erotic ones … especially erotic ones—are simply reflections of the human soul. Sometimes they're silly and sometimes they're exaggerated, but it's through that enhancement of the world that we can see both its beauty and its flaws.

This baby let's me take my low E string from an E Note to a D and back in a flash without having to retune. It can cry like a baby and scream like a devil; it's got angel wings and horns both,and it'll kiss you at the same time it fucks you. Not many dudes can top that,right?

What they don’t know is that the hardest hearts are forged in fire. With their cruelty and their jokes and their laughter, they’ve forged me into something spectacular.

Your past doesn't have to dictate who you are, but it can help you discover who you're meant to be.

I want you to choose me for me. I want you to say fuck Noah Scott and mean it. When you can do that, really do that, come tell me. It'll happen, I know it will.

How can I save anybody when inside, I'm being drowned by my own demons? Swept away by my own sins. Haunted by ghosts and mistakes and what-ifs.

Tyson McCabe, my bad boy, my tortured soul, my little piece of dark with bits of light that glimmer like stars.

...don't worry about how or why or when or what. You've spent your whole fucking life worrying about those things and it hasn't worked out. Follow your fucking heart and let yourself be happy.

Kidnap me and take me away. Throw me across the back of your bike and show me what it feels like to have the wind in your face and the sun on your skin, day in and day out. If it's anything at all like this then it must be heaven on earth. 

I know love because I know the absence of it, you know what I mean? Like, I know black because I've seen white, something like that.

I’ve never heard someone say something as inane as “there’s a kettle in the cupboard” and have it sound like “I’m going to fucking murder you.” Impressive, I must say.

Some things break when you put too much pressure on them, but those shards they break into can be twice as deadly.

Havoc. They create it. They revel in it. They dispense it.

I know love because I know the absence of it, you know what I mean? Like, I know black because I've seen white, something like that

Music is the metaphysical representation of our shredded hearts, all of our pain and anger, our love and joy, ground up and blended together. It saves people, and it destroys them. If it's anything in between, it's not really music at all, just noise.

When you fall in love, you disregard logic. Because logic and love are two sides of the same coin. Together, they make a beautiful sort of currency, but you can never look them both in the face at the same time. I like that. “Hey,

I was born with this horrible affliction that leaves me attracted to men. Why haven't they invented a cure for that shit yet? Check the facts. It's the world's deadliest disease. I kid you not.

I've been living in fear. I've been living only in books. Which is fine, but … I don't want to just read about romance anymore, Lili

We're one in the same, Ty McCabe and I, and he'll always, always get me. Even if nobody else does.

It feels good to be protected—even if I know how to take care of myself.

We might live in the darkness, but that doesn't mean we're not allowed to enjoy the moonlight

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here,” Oscar murmurs,

See, that's the thing with pain. Once it finds you and grabs hold, it doesn't let go easily. It's always there, a demon with reaching claws.

Is that my life outside of these walls was already a living hell. This is just another level of Dante’s inferno, and I’m not afraid—not of any of you.

They used to be my tormentors, but now they’re my dark angels.

And no chick fucking either, unless we both agree to it, of course." Turner pauses and scowls. "Though I can't imagine sharing you with anyone. Makes me fucking sick to my stomach.

Do you know how hard it is to be offered the one thing you always wanted just after you've convinced yourself that you don't anymore? Just when you've accepted that you'll never have it? It's cruel. Worse than never being offered it at all.

If I ever believe in something again, and it turns out to be false, then not only will my body crumble beneath me, but so will my soul. I'll disintegrate, disappear into the wind and blow away. I'll be nothing. I'll blank out and the energy of who I was will just go away, melt into the ground and come back as something unimportant, like a dandelion or a caterpillar. I can't find it in my heart to care.

Your past is your foundation, and if it's crumbling then you've got nothing left to build on.

I just exist for this woman.

Welcome to the house of Gray and Graves where we never lie still and death is only the beginning ...

We both like Marlboro Reds, both eat pastrami and Swiss, and both have holes in our hearts big enough to swallow us whole. What the fuck?

Every step closer to the grave is one step further away from this hell we call life.

Men have selfish motivation, want, and desire tainting their vision; little girls have dreams, ambition, and honesty turning theirs crystal clear

You can't just turn someone's world upside down and then leave.

He might be a bad boy, but even bad boys can be broken.

The threat is over, erased with violence and tiny porcelain hands so used to abuse they can stand innocent no longer.

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.

Love doesn't mean shit in the real world. It opens you up inside, fucks your soul crazy hardcore, but outside, it's just a weakness to be exploited.

I’ll tell you which demons to avoid.” She pauses and gives me another critical look. “Mostly though, you’ll want to stay away from the devils.

Sometimes you don't get to choose your partner. Life chooses it for you.

Now I'm already trying to figure out how to get away from Brandon, so I can read. Why are guys in books so much less dickish than ones in real life? Cuter, too.

Fare-fucking-well, Miss Alice.” He pauses before turning away, shiny shoes scuffing against the filthy stone floor beneath our feet. “Try not to die before we meet again?

This time, I'm not kissing the prince to become the princess, I'm tonguing the villain to guarantee the destruction of others.

Virginity is an abstract patriarchal social construct that has zero validity and exists for the sole purpose of commoditizing young women but go on, I’ll wait.

Falling in love is like catching an incurable disease. Yeah, maybe that doesn’t sounds so romantic, but it’s true. It’s incurable and it’s contagious as shit. It makes you want to have babies and raise kittens, pet butterfly wings and sleep with your head on somebody else’s chest. Love… man, it fucks with everything you are and everything you want to be. I like it and hate it.

There's nothing more frightening than dead silence; I can't stand it. When it's quiet, that's when the bad memories and the awful thoughts ring loudest. I'd rather not hear their sinful soliloquies just now, thank you.

I’ll never be a nice guy, and I’ll never be a saint, but if you’re game to let me try, I’ll make a valiant change. If you could only love me for the asshole that I am, then I swear to God I’d be the man you want to claim.

If you can think of your lover in six senses, then I'd say you're nailed. They've got themselves wrapped around your heart. And your cock. (...) Six senses? (...) Sight, sound, taste, scent, touch, and the other, that thing you can't figure out that means everything. 

To the tortured souls whose blood is the heartbeat of the earth. May you find your happily Never after

I have to go and learn my fate.

You can't get hurt if you're already standing in the flames.

Hot fingertips trail along the back of my neck, and I jump, whirling around to find an identical looking boy with an EAT ME sign around his neck.

I’m surrounded by my monsters now, but at least I hold the leash of some very pretty ones.

Some men sleep and dream. Some men have nightmares. You’re a nightmare, Bernadette, a beautiful nightmare.

The toughest fucking moments in life are the ones where the whole world is a big, fat unkown, where chance has more power to change your fate than you do. It's then that you're gonna want me, Sali, because me, I'm a sure thing.

I did what I had to do in that moment, and I'm proud of myself for it. I was hurting, yes, and maybe I overreacted, and but I can still feel, so there's hope for me. The one's who've forgotten how to feel, those are the ones who are lost.

When you accept a person for who they are, you don’t choose bits and pieces. You accept every part of them, right down to the rotten bits. Because everybody wants somebody to love their rottenness.

Lilith,” he says, and he sounds so boy next door, so apologetic, that I can hardly even believe he's breaking up with me. [...] I told you - I told you - that guys like Copeland Park were the most dangerous. The nice ones, the sweet ones, the ones that promise that everything will be okay with a single look. They're the ones that fuck you over the hardest.

Sometimes, when I'm reading a book, I get so into it that when I look up, I have to blink several times to remember where I am, who I am, what my life is really like. There have been so many times that I've wished I never did wake up, that I died in a dream of words and sentences and characters and romances.

Milady, I'm very much interested." He grins, but there's a heat to it now that either I just missed before, or he did a damn good job hiding. "You're so … very much everything I never knew I wanted. You hate money. You hate assholes. You don't take shit. Darling, let me make you a princess.

Are you in?" I roll my eyes and try to kiss him again, but he won't let me. I pinch his nipples, and all he does is wink and growl at me. "Say it." "Fuck you" "We'll get there, Naomi. Be patient. But first, you have to say it." I keep glaring, but I feel my body melting, my shields and my walls crashing down in flames. "Say you're mine, tell me that you're my girlfriend." "You're my boyfriend," I say, and the words nearly kill me. "That's all you get for now. Best I can fucking do.

Some nightmares are so persistent as to become an unreal reality. They're so frequent and so jarring that even though the dreamer knows she dreams, she can't seem to wake herself up. And when those dreams are based in the awful friction of reality to begin with? Well, that just makes things that much worse because waking up … you know there's no reprieve from the boogey man that hides beneath your bed. The monsters are real, and they've gotten inside your head.

The past isn't something you run from; it's something you walk slowly past, taking pictures, making memories. You learn from the bad times and treasure the good ones, but you leave that view firmly entrenched in the rearview mirror. All I want to see out the windshield is my future.

The world was wrecked and withering, wrecked and full of fright: The Alice did her best to take … In the horrid sights— But this was hard, because it was The corruption of her life. The moon was bathed in blood and hate, It blotted out the sun The kings had got no business there Because their time was done— 'It's very rude of them,' she said, 'Slaughtering everyone!' The blood was red as red could be, The bones were dry as dry. You could not see a star because Gray clouds were in the sky: No angels flying overhead— There were none left to fly.

Say something, Bernadette,” Hael whispers, his voice husky with pleasure. “I want to hear your voice.” His request hits me like a brick to the chest, and for a moment, it's all I can do to sit there, feeling his hard length inside of me. My voice? Why? “Shut the fuck up,” is all I can think to respond with, and Hael laughs, letting me push him back with a hand to the chest.

Instead, when I pull it back, there's a man sitting on a red chaise lounge, leaning back and smiling wickedly at me. Around his neck, there's a tag that says DRINK ME. “Oh, heeeell no,” I say, backing up suddenly, until my feet crunch over the shards of broken glass. Thank God I decided to wear combat boots instead of the awful heels my sister'd picked out for me. “What's the matter?” the boy asks, tilting his head to the side and letting the corner of his lip twist up in a smirk. “You're not thirsty?