Graffiti Moon Quotes

I guess love's kind of like a marshmallow in a microwave on high. After it explodes it's still a marshmallow. but, you know, now it's a complicated marshmallow.

I liked that he had hair that was growing without a plan. A grin that came out of nowhere and left the same way.

It's harder to make someone laugh than it is to make them cry.

I like that about art, that what you see is sometimes more about who you are than what’s on the wall. I look at this painting and think about how everyone has some secret inside, something sleeping like that yellow bird.

For a while, for as long as you're looking at it, that painting is the world and you get to be in it.

Remember Love doesn't make the world go round Sex makes it spin for a second or two If you're lucky So do chips, sausage rolls and girls in short skirts Remember Love Lays its fingers on your heart And holds it Under water Remember that When the next girl smiles

When wanting collides with getting, that's the moment of truth. I want to collide.

Did you know that we're made up of the same matter as stars? We are nuclear energy exploding.

I need the shade of blue that rips your heart out. You don't see that type of blue around here.

dreaming's the only way to get anywhere.

...the definition of crazy is doing something close to the same thing twice and expecting a different end.

Mum says when wanting collides with getting, that's the moment of truth. I want to collide. I want to run right into Shadow and let the force spill our thoughts so we can pick each other up and pass each other back like piles of shiny stones.

If you don't want a generation of robots, fund the arts!

Kept dreaming of this spot she had on her neck, this tiny country. I wanted to visit, to paint a picture of what I found there, a wall with a road map of her skin.

What are you doing?' 'Asking the universe questions.' 'The universe just dumped you over the side of a steep hill. You really want to ask it questions?

And I look at him because he needs to be looked at. He needs to be seen. I hate that he has been on his own for so long painting graffiti moons in the dark keeping quiet about who he really is.

Every time he looked at me I felt like I'd touched my tongue to the tip of a battery. In art class I'd watch him lean back and listen and I was nothing but zing and tingle. After a while, the tingle turned to electricity, and when he asked me out my whole body amped to a level where technically I should have been dead. I had nothing in common with a sheddy like him, but a girl doesn't think straight when she's that close to electrocution.

If you treat glass right, it doesn't crack. If you know the properties, you can make things; the color of dusk and night and love. But you can't control people like that and I really, really wish you could. I want the world to be glass.

I like that about art, that what you see is sometimes more about who you are than what's on the wall.

You know who Mr. Darcy is?" "I exist, therefore I know who Mr. Darcy is.

Open skies painted above painted doorways and painted birds skimming across bricks trying to fly away. Little bird, what are you thinking? You come from a can.

You grabbed my arse.' 'You broke my nose.

Nothing about art is a waste of time. "It's the time wasting that gets you somewhere.

I spray the sky fast. Eyes ahead and behind. Looking for cops. Looking for anyone I don't want to be here. Paint sails and the things that kick in my head scream from can to brick. See this, see this. See me emptied onto a wall.

Where's the fire, Lucy Dervish?' In me. Under my skin.

If my like for you was a football crowd, you’d be deaf ’cause of the roar. And if my like for you was a boxer, there’d be a dead guy lying on the floor. And if my like for you was sugar, you’d lose your teeth before you were twenty. And if my like for you was money, let’s just say you’d be spending plenty.

No guts, no glory. - Bert

His mouth dips into that freckle on my neck. Thank you, sun. Thank you, thank you, sun.

We're not spending the night looking for ourselves.

You're weird," she said, falling asleep. "But that's okay. It makes me seem normal.

Do many guys ask you out twice?" "Only the ones with balls.

We'll meet and click and sit up all night and everything will tip out of me and into him and the other way around and while we're tipping the night will fade and the world will get pink and in that pinkness he'll kiss me.

I escaped onto the wall, a painted ghost trapped in a jar. I stood back to look at it and I knew the sad thing wasn't that the ghost was running out of air. the sad thing was that he had enough air in that small space to last him a lifetime. What were you thinking, little ghost? Letting yourself get trapped like that?

I spent the weekend after our date wishing I could stab him with my fluffy-duck pen and staring at the phone hoping he'd call. Dating is a very tricky business.

Real is better, The truth is better. Painful but better.

... I ask, 'Do you think Dylan's telling the truth?' Daisy checks her face in a little mirror, then hands it to Jazz. 'You want me to find out?' 'Let's not ruin it by calling them liars.' '...I won't ruin it. I've got this special way of getting the truth out of Dylan.' 'How?' I ask. 'I kick him in the balls.' 'That's pretty special.

Love and romance are things worth waiting for.

Emma Forest?" Jazz asks. "His ex is the girl with the big...?" "That's the one," Daisy tells her. Jazz looks at her chest. I pat her shoulder. "Guys care about personality too." "Girls like me started that rumor.

Humor without sadness is just pie in the face

I look across at the line of the city. The nights are mean in this place, full of smog that eats the stars. 'Who does feel hope around here?

Go along with it, Ed. I am begging. I am on the ground begging you." "You're standing at a urinal about to take a piss." "Don't make me get on the ground. Do you know how many germs there are in a toilet?

The stars are on the inside. They are effing beautiful.

I don't believe him for a second, but I'm not telling Daisy that Dylan lied because I know what it's like to want a girl that much. To get dragged in the dirt behind her hoping you won't lose your grip.

I told her yeah, but there was no skin on my voice and she heard the bones in my words like I did. And I knew.

I hear everything he's ever painted in his voice. I hear that person on the beach, looking at the waves. I hear hearts rocked by earthquakes and disappointed seas. I make myself look at him because he needs to be looked at. He needs to be seen. I hate that he's been on his own so long, painting graffiti moons and bricked-in birds and keeping quiet about who he really is.

We've basically just met, so I'll say this gently. Are you completely crazy?

This did not comfort me.

Don't go confusing stupidity with guts." -Bert

You’re not like other girls, you know that, right?’ Ed asks. ‘I’ve been aware of the problem,’ I tell him.

Most times I look at Shadow and Poet's work, I see something different from what the words are telling me. I like that about art, that what you see is sometimes more about who you are than what's on the wall. I look at this painting and think about how everyone has some secret inside, something sleeping like that yellow bird.

Right now, I'd be willing to kiss Ed through a bag. So it's true what they say about teenage hormones. It seems I'm raging out of control. It's not very Jane Austen of me but it feels pretty good. The problem is, Ed's acting all Jane Austen on me and he won't stop talking. Shut up, I want to say. All talk and no action is really kind of frustrating.

Your idea of romance requires a corset and a time machine.

Kiss someone, then," I say. "Not anyone.

You're funny, which you can't be if you're not smart. Dad says it's harder to make someone laugh than it is to make them smile.

I asked him what it was like to have a dad. He said he didn't think it mattered who you had as long as you had somebody good.

The universe must be having a slow night.

I come out of the bathroom and the first thing I see is Ed. Okay, it was a long shot, but I was half hoping he would cease to exist while we were gone.

he wasn't who I thought he'd be. Mum stroked my hair and said, "Sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they make you vomit." This did not comfort me.

She's the psychic but she can't see what's coming up: the intersection of hurt and more hurt. The blind spot there is a killer.

I've almost seen him. And Poet," she says, and I want tot say, You have seen him and you didn't want him.

I look over at Ed. He's staring out the window giving Leo the thumbs-down. I wait till he's looking at me, then I give him two fingers up. He gives me two fingers back. I give him the middle finger. He gives it back to me. I don't know any more signs, so I make up one. Three fingers. Take that, mister. He sticks up four. I call your four and raise you five. He skips straight to ten and does something with his thumb that disturbs me. I bounce my hands on my lap. Ed bounces his lap right back.

Luce,' she says, 'I don't want my diary entry tomorrow to be: Stayed out all night. Went to prison. I have this urge to go home and watch TV with my parents and be completely boring.

I can't believe you're still mad at me," Ed says. "You grabbed my arse." "You broke my nose." "You broke his nose?" Jazz asks. "You grabbed her arse?" "It was two years ago-" "Two years, four months, and eight days," I tell him. "-and I was fifteen, and I slipped and she broke my nose." "Wait a minute. How do you slip onto someone's arse?" Jazz asks. "I meant slipped up. I slipped up and she broke my nose." "You're lucky that's all I broke," I say. "You're lucky I didn't call the police." Leo, Dylan, and Daisy slid into the booth. "Did you guys know that Lucy broke Ed's nose? Jazz asks. Ed closes his eyes silently and bangs his head on the wall.

I told him he was dreaming. He told me dreaming's the only way to get anywhere.

You're chattier than you were two years ago. I'm not sure I like it.

The night didn't go so well because I broke his nose, which was an accident that happened when I hit him in the face because he touched my arse.

Kiss me, I think. Go on, kiss me. At least grab my arse.

You threw eggs at her head. Odds are she's dumping you anyway.

Let me meet Poet, too, but mainly Shadow. The guy who paints in the dark. Paints birds trapped on brick walls and people lost in ghost forests. Paints guys with grass growing from their hearts and girls with buzzing lawn mowers. A guy who paints things like that is a guy I could fall for. Really fall for

Jazz tells Lucy to relax and tries to kick her under the table. I know this because she kicks me instead. "Aim more to the left," I tell her, and she has another go. "Farther left," I say, and enjoy watching her hit the target a couple of times.

Ed gives him a dirty look. Leo grins. Dylan twitches. It feels like something's going on, I think loudly, and I know that Jazz hears my thought because she gives me her serious look and blows a chewing-gum bubble in my direction.

Mum says be careful of boys who never take anything seriously. Dad says a boy needs a good sense of humor to get through his love life. Jazz says my dad must need a sense of humor to get through his love life if he's living in the shed

To the train yard,' she says and pushes on the pedals. We don't move. `Anytime,' I tell her. `You know. While we're still young and beautiful.' She pushes hard again. `You weigh a tonne.' `You need me to drive?' `I need momentum, that's all. Get off.' `You're very charming, but you must hear that all the time.' `Get off,' she says.`I'll ride and you run after me and jump on the bike.' `Do many guys ask you out twice?' `Only the ones with balls.

Tonight’s going to be one of those things that seem to last forever.

I know what irony is.' 'Okay, Alanis.

Ed’s breath wanders over me, and he spotlights that freckle on my neck with his eyes and the heat of the night is sharper than ever and it feels like we’re hanging from the sky or the ceiling. Swaying around each other without our feet on the ground. If we touched I wouldn’t be surprised to hear chiming.

I think back to the night Leo talked to me from the floor, telling me he didn’t like sleeping because that’s when he dreamt. Telling me because in the dark it felt like we weren’t awake, weren’t even real.

Ed? Are you alive?’ ‘Yes..and that’s genuinely surprising since your bike went over me about halfway down. You’re a very dangerous girl to date.’ 'We’re not on a date.

I've got this special way of getting the truth out of Dylan." "How?" i ask. "I kick him in the balls." "That's pretty special,

Well, all girls called Beth are arse grabbers.

I nod so much there's a nodding festival going on.

I am trying to bend the laws of time so I can get here five minutes earlier

I want to sit on the other side of the table from him so he doesn't think I'm interested, but there's no room on the other side so I sit as far away from him as I can and try to have an out-of-body experience.

The course made me think a bit, you know. That we're smart enough to get out of here. We're just too stupid to work out a way.

We didn’t have a date. A date ends in a kiss, not blood and broken cartilage.

All I can tell you is to have the relationship that's good for you.

Serial killer aren't creative." "Watch a little Dexter and get back to me on that.

A psychic laywer is a lethal combination in a mother.

He's one of the good guys,' she always said.'Just sometimes he's working undercover

It’s the time wasting that gets you somewhere.

You say one more word to anyone and I'm telling people you cried in here tonight because you thought Daisy was breaking up with you.' 'You wouldn't.' Leo's phone rings. 'He would,' he says, laughing as he answers it.

The ticking inside On the inside of him there’s a wire fence And past the wire fence is a dog And past the dog are thieves And past the thieves Is a gang of bad dreams And past the dreams If you can get past the dreams Are the things that make him tick Tick, tick, tick (Page 54).

What you leave isn’t always there when you come back.

You know, Leo's brother's hooking me up with a car when I get my license. I'm making you get in while it's moving.

There's one near Hoover Street Station. A picture of me, grass growing out of my heart while I'm talking to her. She looked at the wall but she didn't see us.

I can't tell Beth about me being Shadow. She'd get uptight about me doing something she thinks is dangerous." That's not why you won't tell her. You won't tell her because what's on that wall is what's going on in there." He tapped my head.

She went out with Jacob for five dates, and then they broke up. She came over that night with a tub of ice cream and a bag of Hershey's KISSES. "Comfort food?" I said. "If I needed comfort food I'd have brought two tubs of ice cream. I'm nor upset, Luce. This is what I always eat on a Friday night.

I took the money and passed the box across the counter and said politely, ‘Your choice of colour really lacks style.’ I smiled and Beth laughed and the guy asked to see my manager. I got Bert and he leant over the box and looked at the paint and said, ‘Ed was being polite. Your choice of colour is shit.

You can't drive them around in the getaway van.' 'How about we don't call it the getaway van? People might get suspicious.' 'So what should we call it?' 'How about the van?' 'It doesn't change what it is and that it's a shitty thing to do. Someone might see them in it.

Sometimes a memory is a thing that can't be explained using words.

I made you collapsible. I put you in and raised you with string and made you stay there with putty.

I'm eclectic,' she said to the HDs once and I could see them trying to work out where she plugged in.

A graffiti moon cut by the shadow of power lines. A prisoner moon, Leo wrote.

I like the idea of her bottles. Memories that are nothing but a strange shape floating inside of you, memories that are nothing but empty bottles. And the good stuff, glassed in so it can't float away.

We've basically just met, so I'll say this gently. Are you completely crazy?" "Just out of curiosity, how wold you have said that if we've been friends longer?" "He could be a serial killer, or worse, he could be old, Luce." "Serial killer aren't creative." "Watch a little Dexter and get back to me on that.

I stopped doubting her predication after she told me I'd be allergic to guava juice, which was something I'd never tried. I drank a liter of it in name of scientific research. Dad called me Big Face for two week.

It isn't the smallness of this place that bothers me. It's the grey that's worked its way into the walls. It's the stains on the carpet from some other life that came and left before ours. Bert always said he'd give me a good deal on paint but some places take burning down and rebuilding to make them shiny." -Ed, page 10

I take my hands off the break and let go. The trees and the fences mess together and the concrete could be the sky and the sky could be the concrete and the factories spread out before me like a light-scattered dream.

Ed looks at me like he wishes I'd disappear and if I had the choice I'd grant that wish; I'd turn into smoke and blow away. I want to sit on the other side of the table from him so he doesn't think I'm interested, but there's no room on the other side so I sit as far away from him as I can and try to have an out-of-body experience. This couldn't get more awkward if we all tried. "How about we get some air?" Leo asks Jazz, and they walk outside. Daisy follows them and Dylan follows her. Okay, it could get more awkward if we all tried.

My dad was a magician too. Got in his car and disappeared.

He looks so stupid that it cancels out my stupid so I give in and ride and he runs and gets on the bike after only two tries.

I'm psychic," she said, and looked at me looking nervously at the lock. "Psychic. Not pshycho. I'm Jazz Parker.

A psychic friend could come in very handy." I reshuffled my cards. "I predict I will," she said.

We've got secrets coming out our arses and you want to take them to a clairvoyant?

Do you ever hear from your dad?’ I ask. ‘Uh-uh. Mum said they had the biggest fight before he left. She was sixteen and telling him about me and he left a dad shaped hole in the wall.

Gorilla, a guy who got his name because he's hairy and because his arms are so long his knuckles scrape the floor. He's grinning and moving closer and she's blocked in on all sides by a mass of bodies. I look at her and him. I look at the window. I think back to our date. She can always break his nose if he gets too friendly. I jump through, land on the grass, and turn around. Who am I kidding? I want to see it if she breaks his nose.

What sort of party is this?" Lucy asks, staring at a group of guys who look like they walked off the set of Prison Break. "The fun kind," Leo says. "Go have some. We'll find you after I talk to my brother." "The fun kind?" Lucy shouts to Jazz. "I'm pretty sure I saw that guy over there on 'Crime Stoppers' last week." She's right. She did.

I hear people talking about the feeling they get when they pain stuff in illegal places. Leo says he gets this fast-moving fear swinging through him, running from his heart to everyplace under his skin. I pain to get the thoughts in me out. I paint so it gets quiet under my skin.

So I saw Beth today. She asked me how you were doing. Sounded like she wants you back." "We were over months ago." "You mind if I ask her out, then?" "You mind if I spray a piece on the side of your gran's house?

If my like for you was a footy crowd, you'd be deaf cos of the roar. And if my like for you were a boxer, there'd be a dead guy lying on the floor. And if my like for you were sugar, you'd lose your teeth before you were twenty. And if my like for you was money, let's just say you'd be spending plenty.

I kept thinking I wouldn't make it to Friday night. That something would happen before then to mess with my luck, something like a nuclear bomb going off so there was nowhere for us to meet. "Pretty harsh," Leo said when I called him to come get me because she'd left me in the gutter with a broken nose. She never even called to check she hadn't killed me. A date like that makes a guy wish they would drop the bomb. Right over his house.

No guts, no glory

Anyway. The night didn't go so well because I broke his nose, which was an accident that happened when I hit him in the face because he touched my arse.

You've been looking like this for months." Leo does something strange with his face. "I don't look like that." "Yeah. You do." "I'll look like that if Daisy dumps me, and she'll dump me if she thinks I lied," Dylan says. "You threw eggs at her head. Odds are she's dumping you anyway." I turn to Leo. "We decided. We said that we weren't telling anyone. We said it was art for art's sake. We said the more people knew, the more chance the cop's pick us up. We said it was you and me, no crew." "Are you sure I didn't say it was to score girls?

We said it was for art's sake. we said the more people who knew, the more chance the cops'd pick us up. We said it was you and me, no crew.' Are you I didn'nt say it was to score girls?

We decided. We said that we weren't telling anyone. We said it was for art's sake. We said the more people who knew, the more chance the cops'd pick us up. We said it was you and me, no crew." "Are you sure I didn't say it was to score girls?" That actually sounds a whole lot like something Leo woud say.

She points at two big steps on the back of her bike. "You have training... somethings? What are they?" "Feet platforms. My dad made them for my cousin to use. Step on." "But I don't have a cool helmet with a lightning bolt." "Your head is hard enough." "Funny." I steady myself without touching her. "To the train yard," she says and pushes on the pedals. We don't move. "Anytime," I tell her. 'You know. While we're still young and beautiful." She pushes hard again. "You weight a ton." "You need me to drive?" "I need momentum, that's all. Get off." "You're very charming, but you must hear that all the time." "Get off," she says. "I'll ride, and you run after me and jump on the bike." "Do many guys ask you out twice?" "Only the ones with balls.

Why do want to find him so bad?’ I ask after a while, but she’s not listening. I watch her a bit longer. ‘Why do you want to find him so bad?’ I ask again. She blinks and comes out of her dream. She flicks the band on her wrist. ‘I just do.’ - Ed Skye

I'm up for a Shadow hunt." She tries to let us out, but the lock's stuck. "That's weird." "Is this like an omen?" Daisy asks. Jazz unzips her boot and takes it off so she can slam it at the lock. "It's not an omen." Slam. "Tonight." Slam. "Is going to be great." Slam. "I've got a feeling." Slam. She puts her book back on and looks at us. "Okay, we'll have to climb out of here." She stands on the toilet seat and from there to the toilet-roll holder and then heaves herself over the wall. "Impresive," I say, and then we hear her slam to the ground. "Less impressive," Daisy says. "It doesn't mean anything," Jazz calls. "Trust me. I'm a psychic.

Don't go confusing stupidity with guts.

I like that the skies go nowhere. In the painting. I like that the birds want to get away but they can't. I like the reflection of paint in the dark.

I didn’t tell her what I’d done; I told her he wasn’t who I thought he’d be. Mum stroked my hair and said, "Sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes they make you vomit.

I'm like Courtney Love without the drugs, right? Edgy. Full of unspoken feeling.' 'You're a brick when the guy is real and in front of you.

... I'm pretty sure I saw that guy over there on Crime Stoppers last week." She's right. She did.

It was about friendship, and pink vans, and doing the wrong thing, but still finding redemption in the end.

Art like that doesn’t need words. That painting tells you something by pulling you into it and pushing you out and you know what it’s saying without words being spoken.

seems like a lot of trouble for a boat that's going nowhere.

I know they still love each other, but I guess love is kind of like a marshmallow in a microwave on high. After it explodes, it’s still a marshmallow. But, you know, now it’s a complicated marshmallow.

So how old are you, baby?" Gorilla asks her. "Old enough to know better," she says, looking at his arms. "You like what you see?" he asks and touches her leg. "You and me should do it, later." "Did you forget to evolve?" she asks, struggling to get off the couch.

I gave my life a real nice show. And then you went away so I could see you as graffiti in a bar just once. A man is stepping on the moon. The earth or your one life is gone. The phone rings in your leaving. Let your black hair, let your black hair get in my way always.

Dale Chihuly." She pulls out her phone and moves close to show me a picture of his work. "It's an eleven meter-long chandelier at the Victoria and Albert Museum." It looks like one of those tanges she drew, only it's hanging from a ceiling. Blue and yellow. A sideways ocean. "It looks to me like a feeling pulled straight out from under your skin," she says.

Any other girl at La Brea High would have been flattered to have him pursue her. They found his laid-back scruffy look irresistible, even with his bad reputation as a heartbreaker. Serena had caught him staring at her in English class and had wondered what he wanted with her. She wasn't the glam type of girl he normally dated, not with her combat boots, black fishnet hose, and graffiti-painted nails. But it didn't take much to realize he had a huge crush on her. He always seemed to show up where she was. At first Serena had been impressed that he wasn't the kind of guy who judged a girl by the way she dressed. She might have even dated him if she hadn't discovered the truth. He lied about the girls he had gone out with. It wasn't as if Serena didn't know guys did that. She knew they exaggerated sometimes, but Jerome did more. She couldn't confront him or even tell others what she knew, though, because no one would believe her.

I never thought this book would be a good romance/ mystery book. Grafitti Moon is about Daisy and her friends Lucy and Jazz go out on a girls' night to have some "fun" in Melbourne, Australia in their town.

The battle of the sexes has existed for a very long time, illustrated by three quotes separated by centuries: “The female is an impotent male, incapable of making semen because of the coldness of her nature. We therefore should look upon the female state as if it were a deformity, though one that occurs in the ordinary course of nature.” Aristotle (384–332 BC) “Girls begin to talk and to stand on their feet sooner than boys because weeds always grow up more quickly than good crops.” Martin Luther (1483–1546) “If they can put a man on the moon … why can’t they put them all there?” Jill (graffiti I saw on a bathroom wall in 1985, in response to Luther’s quote scribbled there)

And I talk to hear her talk back.

..dreaming's the only way to get you anywhere.

Save perhaps for the inventing and scriptwriting of Armitage, for the comics publication Judge Dredd the Megazine, in which he delineated and developed the city of London in that futuristic and somewhat casually violent shared world. And possibly his novels in the Judge Dredd line from Virgin Books, being Deathmasques, The Medusa Seed and Wetworks. And possibly any amount of other comics-related material to boot. And his work for Virgin Books’ New Adventure and Missing Adventure lines, come to think of it, including Sky Pirates!, Death and Diplomacy, Burning Heart, and for their continuation (starring one-time companion Bernice Summerfield), Ship of Fools, Oblivion, The Mary-Sue Extrusion and Return to the Fractured Planet. Each and every one a fine and puissant piece of literature, so all in all it is a bit unfortunate that at least half of them are no longer in print. For the BBC he has written the novel Heart of TARDIS, the short story Moon Graffiti, subsequently released as one half of a BBC Radio Collection audio disc, and the very volume you currently hold, quite lovingly, in your hands. His work on Bernice, incidentally, continues more-or-less simultaneously with the release of the Big Finish novel The Infernal Nexus. Mr.

Were you in love with Emma?" I ask. "I was hard-core obsessed," he says without thinking about it. "Not in love." "What's the difference?" He's about to throw a stone at ta yard light but stops. "Prison," he says, and puts the stone in his pocket.

About how love is harder than a sodoku puzzle.

We rode our bikes home through a sea of sky where all the lights on the shitty factories were stars and the world was a place we could swim right through.

Every now and then we step over a guy still going nowhere from the night before, determined to get there tonight.

Art like that doesn’t need words. That painting tells you something by pulling you into it and pushing you out and you know what it’s saying without words being spoken. ~Ed

You’re lucky if romance ends in something you can add water to and rehydrate. -Lucy's mom