Krystal Sutherland Quotes

Just because a love ends doesn't mean it wasn't real.

People are perfect when all that's left of them is memory.

I am the thing in the dark.

That’s a pretty heavy burden to bear, being everything for someone.

We must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy, Grace. Reading Harry Potter is what is right.

Love doesn't need to last a lifetime for it to be real. You can't judge the quality of a love by the length of time it lasts. Everything dies, love included. Sometimes it dies with a person, sometimes it dies on its own. The greatest love story ever told doesn't have to be about two people who spent their whole lives together. It might be about a love that lasted two weeks or two months or two years, but burned brighter and hotter and more brilliantly than any other love before or after. Don't mourn a failed love; there is no such thing. All love is equal in the brain.

We were characters out of a movie. We were thoroughly alive. And we were absolutely beautiful.

Some people go missing because they want to; some go missing because they’re taken. And then there are the others—those who go missing because they fall through a gap somewhere and can’t claw their way back.

Some people are born with an ear for music, some people are born with a talent for drawing, some people...have a built-in radar that tells them where a comma needs to go in a sentence.

My sisters. My blood. My skin. What a gruesome bond we shared.

some things are more beautiful when they've been broken.

...Tell me you believe that our lives are anything more than a ridiculous cascade of random chances.

Nothing in her life had ever been neat or ordered. She slammed through the world, a tornado in the form of a girl, and left a trail of destruction behind her.

Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.

Everyone we let into our lives has the power to hurt us. Sometimes they will, and sometimes they won't, but that's not a reflection of us, or our strength. Loving someone who hurts you doesn't make you weak.

The best thing the universe ever gave us is that we'll all be forgotten

Draft Three Because I never realized that you could fall in love with humans the same way you fall in love with songs. How the tune of them could mean nothing to you at first, an unfamiliar melody, but quickly turn into a symphony carved across your skin; a hymn in the web of your veins; a harmony stitched into the lining of your soul

Why are you so beautiful, do you think? So hungry? So able to bend the wills of those around you? You are like the death flowers that grow rampant in your wake: lovely to look at, intoxicating even, but get too close and you will soon learn that there is something rank beneath. That’s what beauty often is, in nature. A warning. A disguise.

They've poisoned you with this 'love is patient, love is kind' bullshit since you were a kid. But love is scientific, man. I mean, it's really just a chemical reaction in the brain. Sometimes that reaction lasts a lifetime, repeating itself over and over again. And sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it goes supernova and then starts to fade. We're all just chemical hearts. Does that make love any less brilliant? I don't think so.

Because I have never met anyone that I wanted in my life that way before. But you. I could make an exception for you.

The best thing the universe ever gave us is that we'll all be forgotten. [...] I kinda like the idea. That when we die, despite any pain or fear or embarrassment we experienced during our lives, despite any heartbreak or grief, we get to be dispersed back into nothingness. It makes me feel brave, knowing I'll get a blank slate at the end. You get a brief glimmer of consciousness to do with what you will and then it's given back to the universe again. I'm not religious, but even I can appreciate that that's redemption, on the grandest scale. Oblivion isn't scary; it's the closest thing to genuine absolution of sin that I can imagine.

The things you own end up owning you

What you don’t understand,” she said to me once when I told her how dangerous it was, “is that I am the thing in the dark.

Both of my sisters were the great loves of my life. I couldn’t live without them. I didn’t want to.

I'd realized there were scarier things in the world than the monsters that lived in my nightmares.

Grace had torn me apart and put me back together so many times that I'd started to believe that was what I wanted. A kintsukuroi relationship, more beautiful for having been broken. But something can only be shattered so many times before it becomes irreparable...

Plus, how can she be your soul mate? Didn't you tell me she'd never read Harry Potter? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with someone like that? I mean, for God's sake, think of your children. What kind of environment would they be growing up in with such a mother?

Stories with happy endings are stories that haven't been finished yet.

Grey was lightning, Vivi was thunder and I was the sea in the tempest.

Your life would be happier if you didn’t know.” “Knowledge is power.” “And ignorance is bliss.

Point is, you gotta be scared. Fear protects you. You gotta be scared right down to your bones" - he touched his fingertips to her collarbone - "for bravery to mean anything.

She moved through the world like no other woman I knew.

Sometimes it was better to not get what you wanted. Sometimes it was better to leave beautiful things alone for fear of breaking them.

That's the problem. That's what's wrong with love. Once you love someone, no matter who they are, you'll always let them destroy you. Every single time.

One day,” he said, “everybody’s gonna wake up and realize their parents are human beings, just like them. Sometimes they’re good people, sometimes they’re not.

This seemed like such a good and noble idea ten minutes ago,” Tyler said. “I forgot that I’m not a good or noble person.

How could death not be appealing, when the only thing that gave him comfort in life was being unconscious?

as a child I was obsessed with mysteries - probabily because I was one.

It's the end of the Earth and the death of the universe that give me the insane courage to say that I am yours, if you want me.

I can’t lie to you and tell you that standing in front of someone and offering them your soul and having them reject you is not gonna be one of the worst things that ever happens to you. You will wonder for days or weeks or months or years afterward what it is about you that was so wrong or broken or ugly that they couldn’t love you the way you loved them. You will look for all the reasons inside yourself that they didn’t want you and you will find a million. Maybe it was the way you looked in the mornings when you first woke up and hadn’t showered. Maybe it was the way you were too available, because despite what everyone says, playing hard to get is still attractive. Some days you will believe that every atom of your being is defective somehow. What you need to remember, as I remembered as I watched Grace Town leave, is that you are extraordinary.

I got you out," Grey said fiercely. "I gave you the life I promised you I would give you. I have no regrets. I want you to know that. I would do everything I did again, one hundred times over. When you are ready to talk to me, I will be waiting for you, because I am your sister. In this life, and in the last.

The magic had started to degrade, and Rosemary had slowly but surely become thoroughly, gruesomely human. And there were few things worse in this world than humans.

I was amazed at how quickly a person could become an essential part of your life.

Because you're dead and the dead are always starving... You're dead. Food can never sate your hunger, can never fill the emptiness inside you.

Grace Town is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

I'm a girl made of bread crumbs, lost alone in the woods.

P.S. Regarding the knife, as Jon and Arya said: Stick ’em with the pointy end.

She’d passed the fear barrier, and she’d lived, and she’d discovered not certain death, as she’d imagined, but impossible splendor. What other beautiful things had fear been hiding from her? What else had the curse long kept her from discovering? For the first time in a long time, she wanted to find out.

Even the very best people found ways to hurt the ones they loved.

Bedrooms are like crime scenes. So many clues to be uncovered.

Grace Town was a chemical explosion inside my heart. She was a star that'd gone supernova. For a few fleeting moments there was light and heat and pain, brighter than a galaxy, and in her wake she left nothing but darkness. But the death of stars provides the building blocks of life. We're all made of star stuff. We're all made of Grace Town.

Because I never realized that you could fall in love with humans the same way you fall in love with songs. How the tune of them could mean nothing to you at first, an unfamiliar melody, but quickly turn into a symphony carved across your skin; a hymn in the web of your veins; a harmony stitched into the lining of your soul.

Anxiety felt like a grapnel anchor had been pickaxed into your back, one prong in each lung, one through the heart, one through the spine, the weight curving your posture forward, dragging you down to the murky depths of the sea floor. The good news was that you kind of got used to it after a while. Got used to the gasping, brink-of-heart-attack feeling that followed you everywhere. All you had to do was grab one of the prongs that stuck out from the bottom of your sternum, give it a little shake, and say, “Listen, asshole. We’re not dying. We have shit to do.

Well, it is a crypt. In the philosophical sense. All old buildings become crypts the moment they're finished. A shrine to a time that's already dead.

something can only be shattered so many times before it becomes irreparable, just as a piece of paper can only be folded so many times before it cannot be folded any more. While

She would bewitch everyone to make her lie the truth

Grace was my drug of choice, and tonight the dealer was giving out hits for free. I'd stay until I overdosed.

My heart beat in time with hers. The three of us, with the exact same rhythm in our chests. When one was scared, the hearts of the others knocked. If you cut us open and peeled back the skin, I was sure you’d find something strange: one organ shared, somehow, between three girls.

Once you love someone, no matter who they are, you’ll always let them destroy you. Every single time. Even the very best people found ways to hurt the ones they loved.

We all knew the impact of our beauty and we all dealt with it in different ways.

Of course it’s not going to be easy. You’re fighting a war against yourself. Every time either side makes ground, you’re the one who gets hurt. But it’s not about winning the war against your demons. It’s about calling a truce and learning how to live with them peacefully. Promise me you’ll keep fighting. -Esther

The insane rush of endorphins that flooded my system the moment my phone vibrated and her name popped up on screen was worrying. I'd never been addicted to anything before, but I thought maybe this is what it felt like to be a junkie in desperate need of a hit. "Edward Cullen, you poor, miserable bastard," I said as I locked my phone screen and stared at the ceiling. "I should not have judged you so harshly.

Like HIV, depression was a king at playing hide-and-seek. It concealed itself in reservoirs deep inside the mind, waiting for the walls you built around it to eventually erode. Depression could be at undetectable levels for months or years. You'd be all happy and stable and think you were cured, you were a survivor, and then BAM, out of nowhere it resurged.

Maybe Dracula wasn't a vampire, just a raging alcoholic who was constantly hungover.

The universe is not the magical place people like to paint it as. It's excruciatingly beautiful, but there's no magic there, just science.

What do you do when someone you love is missing? When all the looking you can do is done, what do you do in the long hours that linger ahead of you, heavy with absence and worry?

Because it seems like a lot of hassle, liking someone. Your brain runs hot, the cogs inside your mind jarring together until all the oil of your thoughts is burned away. The fire spreads to your chest, where it chars your lungs and turns your heart to embers. And right when you think the flames have burned away everything but your skeleton, the spark skips from your bones to immolate not only your flesh, but your entire life.

if people really were assembled from pieces of the universe, her soul was made of stardust and chaos.

We're all just chemical hearts. Does that make love any less brilliant? I don't think so.

Why is it, I thought, that we're so willing to hurt the ones we care about the most?

seemed unfair that Grey got to live and Tyler had to die and everyone just accepted that’s that the way it was—but maybe it didn’t have to be.

Everything you want is on the other side of fear

Draft Six Because you're worth nothing less than stardust, but all I can give you is dirt

If you didn't let people get close to you, they couldn't hurt you when they left.

I can't pretend to be all better because that's what you want.

A thousand little moments had made Esther fall more and more in love with him, without her even noticing. A thousand little pieces of his soul had splintered off and dug themselves into her.

There are things in every family that are not talked about. Stories you know without really knowing how you know them, tales of terrible things that cast long shadows over generations. Adelaide Fairlight’s three stillborn babies was one of those stories.

The trouble was, I did know what I wanted from Grace Town. I wanted to sleep with her, sure. I wanted her to be my girlfriend. A few years from now, I wanted to marry her. And then, when we were old, I wanted to drink peppermint tea and read Harry Potter to our grandchildren with her on the veranda of an old house in the countryside as we watched a summer storm roll toward us. Was that so much to ask?

But that's how it should be with feelings. People should be forward.

Why did someone who was supposed to love me look at me like that?

That's what beauty often is, in nature. A warning. A disguise.

Death is the reward for having lived.

Of course I remember. I remember everything. You just wouldn't believe me if I told you.

I did not come this far to only come this far.

I know you want her back, kid. And I know that people saying things like 'there are plenty more fish in the sea' is only going to make you hurt more. And I could tell you all about the science of what your brain is going through right now. How it's processing a pain as intense as hitting a nerve in your tooth, but it can't find a source for that pain, so you kind of feel it everywhere. I could tell you that when you fall for someone, the bits of your brain that light up are the same as when you're hungry or thirsty. And I could tell you that when the person you love leaves you, you starve for them, you crave them, Heartbreak is a science, like love. So trust me when I say this: you're wounded right now, but you'll heal.

Mother. Father. I have news," I announced. Dad looked up from an article about one of the Kardashians, "You've been conscripted to the war? What decade are you speaking from?" "Ugh, fine: Home-Daddy, Mama P., I got a live tweet coming at you. Better?" "Oh God, go back to World War Two, please," said Mom.

We were sisters. We felt each other’s pain. We caused each other’s pain. We knew the smell of each other’s morning breath. We made each other cry. We made each other laugh. We got angry, pinched, kicked, screamed at each other. We kissed, on the forehead, nose on nose, butterfly eyelashes swept against cheeks. We wore each other’s clothes. We stole from each other, treasured objects hidden under pillows. We defended each other. We lied to each other. We pretended to be older people, other people. We played dress up. We spied on each other. We possessed each other like shiny things. We loved each other with potent, fervent fury. Animal fury. Monstrous fury.

didn’t follow my sister. I was my sister. I breathed when she breathed. I blinked when she blinked. I felt pain when she felt pain. If Grey was going to jump off a bridge, I was going to be there with her, holding her hand.

I don't mean it in any suicidal sense," she said, and she was whispering even quieter now, like she was telling me a terrible secret. "You know how you can have the most exausting day and you can't wait to get home and fall into bed and sleep for hours? I feel that way about life. There are people out there who read books about vampires and they crave immortality, but sometimes I'm so thankful that at the end of it all, we get to sleep forever. No more pain. No more exhaustion. Death is the reward for having lived.

You are like the death flowers that grow rampant in your wake: lovely to look at, intoxicating even, but get too close and you will soon learn that there is something rank beneath. That’s what beauty often is, in nature. A warning. A disguise. Do you understand?

Esther changed into a costume of Wednesday Addams, and then they went, the three strangest teenagers in town: a ghost who couldn't speak, a boy who hated the dark, and a girl who dressed as someone else everywhere she went.

When I look up into the night sky, I remember that I'm nothing but the ashes of long-dead stars. A human being is a collection of atoms that comes together into an ordered pattern for a brief period of time and then falls apart again. I find comfort in my smallness.

was a grim testament to a truth I knew but refused to acknowledge: that it was possible to suffer devastating, incomprehensible loss and continue to live, to breathe, to pump blood around your body and supply oxygen to your brain.

Esther wanted to make her brother understand that he was the sun. That he was bright and burning and brilliant, and without his warmth, without his gravity to orient herself around, she would be nothing. She wished they had that psychic twin thing, that she could push images into his head and make him see. Make him see that he was everything.

Lola and I both highly believed in the value of metaphorical gifts, so while everyone else saw a demonic-looking cat skeleton dripping wax on the packaging, Lola saw the message: Our friendship is like this feline shaped candle - burn away all the shit, and you and me are still solid underneath. Always.

The greatest love story ever told doesn’t have to be about two people who spent their whole lives together. It might be about a love that lasted two weeks or two months or two years, but burned brighter and hotter and more brilliantly than any other love before or after. Don’t mourn a failed love; there’s no such thing. All love is equal in the brain.

Here,” Grace said as she opened the book again and tore out the page with the poem on it. I flinched as though I were in actual pain. “You should have it, if you like it. Pretty poetry is wasted on me.” I took the paper from her and folded it and slipped it into my pocket, half of me horrified that she’d injured a book, the other half of me elated that she’d so willingly given me something that clearly meant a lot to her.

You can’t judge the quality of a love by the length of time it lasts. Everything dies, love included. Sometimes it dies with a person, sometimes it dies on its own. The greatest love story ever told doesn’t have to be about two people who spent their whole lives together. It might be about a love that lasted two weeks or two months or two years, but burned brighter and hotter and more brilliantly than any other love before or after. Don’t mourn a failed love; there’s no such thing. All love is equal in the brain.

I can’t put into words what it is to love someone like that. Or lose someone like that. Which is part of the reason why I don’t write anymore. Because words fail. A lot of people they don’t know what they’ve got until it’s gone, but I knew. I knew. I knew every day that we were together that what we had was extraordinary. And I was so afraid, every day, that I would lose him, lose them all. I used to worry so much about his safety, worry that they’d finally get sick of dealing with my messed-up family, but they never did. And I used to question how two people could be so lucky. How could the universe justify bringing us together when we were only nine? How could it ever be fair that what everyone was looking for was handed to us on a silver platter when we were too young to even know that we wanted it?

As she fell, Esther wasn’t worried about being blown off course and plummeting into the rocks below. She wasn’t worried about hitting the shallows and pin diving to the ocean floor and shattering her spine. She wasn’t even worried about Cthulhu. (Okay, maybe a little.) What she worried about was Eugene’s willingness to jump. The way he glanced down at the water far below and looked at it like it was home. The way he stepped lightly from the cliff’s edge, and the way he fell through the air faster than she did, dragged down by earth’s magnetic field. The way he flickered in the sunlight as he hit the water, the same way Tyler Durden flashed on-screen four times before you saw him solidly. Foreshadowing the twist to come. Eugene was afraid of demons, and monsters, and above all the dark, but he was not afraid of death. That scared her more than anything.