Leah Quotes

Leah: 'I thought you loved your husband.' Olivia: 'I love yours too.

Leah: "That is easily the freakin’ grossest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Yuck. If there was anything in my stomach, it would be coming back." Seth: "They are vampires, I guess. I mean, it makes sense, and if it helps Bella, it’s a good thing, right?" Leah and Jake stare at Seth. Seth: "What?" Leah: "Mom dropped him a lot when he was a baby." Jake: "On his head apparently." Leah: "He used to gnaw on the crib bars, too." Jake: "Lead paint?" Leah: "Looks like it." Seth: "Funny. Why don’t you two shut up and sleep?

Love is illogical. You fall into it like a manhole. Then you're just stuck. You die in love more than you live in love.

You can call it love, or you can call it freefall. They're pretty much the same thing.

Wherever we go in the next life, we’ll be together,” I say. "Let’s not go to hell then, that’s where Leah will be.

Leah: 'How do I get him to come home?' Sam: 'Get a new personality and learn to shut the fuck up.

There are moments, when you’re getting to know someone, when you realize something deep and buried in you is deep and buried in them, too. It feels like meeting a stranger you’ve known your whole life.

I see the lights every night. It seems like the whole world has figured out how to be happy, but no one's letting me in on the secret.

Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don't guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it's total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It's feral. And it's relentless.

Imagine going about your day knowing someone’s carrying you in their mind. That has to be the best part of being in love- the feeling of having a home in some else’s brain.

I respect people who get nerdy as fuck about something they love

Nudity was an inconvenient but unavoidable part of pack life. We’d all thought nothing of it before Leah came along. Then it got awkward.

...You should love something while you have it, love it fully and without reservation, even if you know you'll lose it someday. We lose everything. If you're trying to avoid loss, there's no point in taking another breath, or letting your heart beat one more time. It all ends." His fingers curl around mine. "That's all life is. Breathing in, breathing out. The space between two breaths.

Society. The same society, I might add, that dictates that little girls should always be sugar and spice and everything nice, which encourages them not to be assertive. And that, in turn, then leads to low self-esteem, which can lead to eating disorders and increased tolerance and acceptance of domestic, sexual, and substance abuse." "You get all that from a pink Onesie?" Leah said after a moment.

The Devil is real. And he's not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite.

I can't hold on to you. You're like a shooting star. Just a trail of fire in my hands.

Part of falling in love with someone is actually falling in love with yourself. Realizing that you're gorgeous, you're fearless and unpredictable, you're a firecracker spitting light, entrancing a hundred faces that stare up at you with starry eyes.

Who fixes broken people? Is it only other broken people, ones who've already been ruined? And do we need to be fixed? It was the messiness and hurt in our pasts that drove us, and that same hurt connected us at a subdermal level, the kind of scars written so deeply in your cells that you can't even see them anymore, only recognize them in someone else.

That's another thing about lies: if you convince yourself they're true, they become true. A lie is a discrepancy of belief, not fact.

Leah has red hair, but Olivia has a red personality. And as far as I’m concerned, red belongs to the love of my life.

I can’t fuck your life, I’m monogamously fucking my own life.

I never wanted to be saved. I wanted someone to follow me down into the darkness.

That is all life is. Breathing in, breathing out. The space between two breaths.

Leah.' Mom shakes her head. 'You've got to stop doing this.' 'Doing what?' 'Burning everything to the ground whenever something goes wrong.

I hate when assholes have talent. I want to live in a world where good people rule at everything and shitty people suck at everything.

And this gay thing. It feels so big. It's almost insurmountable. I don't know how to tell them something like this and still come out of it feeling like Simon. Because if Leah and Nick don't recognize me, I don't even recognize myself anymore.

The only way to cure an obsession is to become obsessed with something else.

People know their feelings much sooner than they consciously accept them.

There's something so terrible about wanting something you've already had. You know exactly what you're missing. Your body knows precisely how to shape itself around the ache, the hollowness that wants to be filled

...The thought of how much happiness lay scattered across the universe, unrealized, in fragments, waiting for the right twist of fate to bring it together.

You and I are happening. No one is keeping us apart again. Not Noah or Cammie, and least of all, fucking Leah. You are mine. Do you understand me?

Grow up. This is real. The world is ugly and nasty and fucked up, and so are we.

Maybe all you need to pull you back form the ledge is to know someone would miss you if you fell.

I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul and all that jazz.

I swear, people can’t wrap their minds around the concept of a fat girl who doesn’t diet. Is it that hard to believe I might actually like my body?

This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm. "Pull open," Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, "He never remembers. It's so weird.

RIP Leah Burke. She died of acute awkwardosis.

You should love something while you have it, love it fully and without reservation, even if you know you’ll lose it someday.

Mr. Spier, memorizing the Hamilton soundtrack is not going to save you on the AP Euro exam.

Why did everything beautiful come from pain?

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so sure of themselves and wiser people so full of doubt.

This is ridiculous," I said, trying to laugh it off. "I never cry at movies." "Because you've never been in love," he said.

I can't help it. I'm a Slytherin." And I'm the worst kind of Slytherin. I'm the kind who's so stupidly in love with a Gryffindor, she can't even function. I'm the Draco from some shitty Drarry fic that the author abandoned after four chapters.

You can't just like Harry Potter. You have to be balls-out obsessed with it.

I am Athena. Before that I was Thea, singer and slave and lover of gladiators. Before that I was Leah, daughter of Benjamin and Rachael of Masada. I am as mortal as you, you common little man. And I fear no one!

Don’t come here to fuck with my head and play games. You don’t test someone’s love by leaving them.

I used to think boners literally pointed in the direction of the person you're attracted to, like a compass. That would be helpful. Mortifying as fuck, but at least it would clarify things.

I'm not over you. I dream about you every night. I watch that fucking video over and over just to hear your voice. Does that make you happy? Is that proof I cared?

Nobody knows how to be a grown-up. We're all just pretending for each other.

Thanks, Dad, for leaving a huge void in my life that Freud says has to be filled with dick.

I hate when writers make Draco sweet. Sorry, but Draco's a bitch. Own it. I mean, yeah, he's a ball of mush underneath, but you have to earn it with him.

Sometimes all you know about where you're going is that it's away from where you are.

Leah once said that she’d rather have people call her fat directly than have to sit there and listen to them talking shit about some other girl’s weight. I actually think I agree with that. Nothing is worse than the secret humiliation of being insulted by proxy.

...love was desire and desire was an emptiness.

your heart is a weapon the size of your fist. keep fighting. keep loving

Apparently, Simon’s dad asked the tour guide at Duke to “please elaborate on the campus gay scene.” “I wanted to fucking die,” Simon told me.

Falling for someone is like pulling a loose thread. It happens stitch by stitch. You feel whole most of the time even while the seams pop, the knots loosen, everything that holds you together coming undone. It feels incredible, this opening of yourself to the world. Not like the unraveling it is. Only afterward do you glance down at the tangle of string around your feet that used to be a person who was whole and self-contained and realize that love is not a thing that we create. It's an undoing.

Strength is not in the body, it’s in the mind. It doesn’t lie in flexing your muscles and crushing those who oppose you. It lies in being the last one standing. By any means. At any cost.

By their actions, they will show you who they are.

She's not the enemy. She's just a dirty fighter.

A happy ending isn't really the end. It's just the place where you choose to stop telling the story.

Girls get under each other's skin. We get too close, too attached, too crazy, and then we can't let go. Our claws sink too deep. When we separate, we tear each other apart.

I never needed this race, or a hashtag, or the king to be a queen. I was born royalty. All I had to do was pick up my crown.

That’s how you know someone loves you. When they want you to be happy even in the part of your life they’ll never see. But right then I was too stuck in the moment, in the visceral pleasure of it all.

Our gazes struck like flint and steel. And I realized that gunsmoke smell wasn’t ozone. It was us. We burned.

There's this tug in my chest. Because when Bram says Simon's name, he pronounces every part of it. Like it's worth being careful over.

I just love the smell of an old book store and the feel of the crisp pages along my fingertips.

After everything happened with you and me, I tried to heal. I knew that I needed to forget you and move on. I hurt so much; everyday felt like a death sentence. I mourned you like you were dead and then, I met Leah. We were set up on a blind date and I remember feeling hope that day. It was the first day in a year that I felt hope. We took our time getting to know each other, I bought her a ring.” He shot me a look to see if I remembered the iceberg. “And then, all of a sudden I missed you again. I mean, I never stopped missing you, but this time it hit me hard. I couldn’t go to sleep for a single night without seeing you in my dreams. I compared everything Leah did to everything I remembered about you. It was like the old wound opened itself up again and I was bleeding out my feelings for you.” I close my eyes at his words. Words that I want to hear badly but that are making my heart ache so terribly I can barely breathe.

If I was gay, I wouldn't need an asterisk beside my name. I could stop worrying if the girl I like will bounce when she finds out I also like dick. I could have a coming-out party without people thinking I just want attention. I wouldn't have to explain that I fall in love with minds, not genders or body parts. People wouldn't say I'm 'just a slut' or 'faking it' or 'undecided' or 'confused.' I'm not confused. I don't categorize people by who I'm allowed to like and who I'm allowed to love. Love doesn't fit into boxes like that. It's blurry, slippery, quantum. It's only limited by our perceptions and before we slap a label on it and cram it into some category, everything is possible.

It's like it doesn't even matter if I like my body, because there's always someone there to remind me I shouldn't.

Maybe the guy loves a good bitch - but you're treading a thin line between attractively bitchy and psycho.

Fuck forgiveness. That’s what they want me to do. Make it easy for them. Clear their consciences. Let them get away with what they’ve done. The powerful. The strong. The privileged. Not a fucking chance.

That was what we'd finally been forced to confront: if our relationship was based on forbiddenness, what would happen when it was no longer forbidden?

I can’t be your manic pixie dream girl. I can’t be the girl who teaches you how to open your heart and embrace life and all that bullshit, because I’m trying to figure out how to do that myself. I need a manic pixie dream boy of my own.

Olivia married sexy Ghandi. No wonder she loves her husband.

Just because it could be worse doesn't mean you don't get to acknowledge how much it sucks, you know.

In a typical college romance novel, he'd be a gorgeous but troubled sex god who'd cure all my deep-seated psych issues with a good hard fuck. I'd smell his misogyny and abusive tendencies from miles off but my brain would turn to hormone soup because abs. That's the formula. Broken girl + bad boy = sexual healing. All you need to fix that tragic past is a six-pack. More problems? Add abs. It's Magic Dick Lit.

She probably thinks Troye Sivan's songs are about girls.

I'm basically your resident fat Slytherin Rory Gilmore.

It was a huge comfort to have a person who'd keep you honest with yourself and who also gave you safe harbour.

Don't overthink things. Sometimes you can convince your head not to listen to your heart. Those are the decisions you regret for the rest of your life." Faith Barnett From Texas Tangle

I am such a dick. Like, I'm an actual flaccid penis of a person.

You give me things too," he said in a hushed voice as he bit off the cap. "Like what?" "A headache," his smile widened.

Just because I don't know how to work a toy, doesn't mean I don't want it in my toy box.

He embraced me, and said into my ear, 'I'm going to fuck the shit out of you.' I lost my breath. It was crude, it was unexpected, and it set me on fucking fire.

Suicide isn't really about death, though. It's about change. Release.

This is what helps me sleep at night. Knowing that one of us stood up and refused to take it. One of us said, Fuck you, and struck back. One of us became the wolf and bloodied her jaws so that others can live without fear.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed and sung me moonstruck, kissed me quite insane. And before you think that's cheesy,that's Sylvia Plath. Google her, young Padawan.

There is nowhere morning does not go.

It was unicorns vomiting sunbeams.

This is what they don’t tell you about losing someone: It doesn’t happen once. It happens every day, every moment they’re missing from. You lose them a hundred times between waking and sleep, and even sleep is no respite, because you lose them in your dreams, too.

Are you in love with him?” I rolled my head on the plank to look at Wesley. “I don’t think I know what being in love is yet. But this is different than anything I’ve ever felt.” “What’s it feel like?” “Remember when you thought I was jumping off to kill myself?” He winced. “It’s like that,” I said. “But no one catches you. You’re just hanging over infinity.

I am not the heroine of this story. And I'm not trying to be cute. It's the truth. I'm diagnosed borderline and seriously fucked-up. I hold grudges. I bottle my hate until it ferments into poison, and then I get high off the fumes. I'm completely dysfunctional and that's the way I like it, so don't expect a character arc where I finally find Redemption, Growth, and Change, or learn How to Forgive Myself and Others.

Anyone who's happy in a world this fucked-up has some serious psychological issues. You think I'm crazy because I see things as they are. You'd rather put on Disneyland goggles and watch TV and pretend it's fine. It's not crazy if I see monsters when I live in a fucking nightmare.

After this, I sat on the floor of the kitchen and thought about Leah, about the shape of her feet and the way she spoke about her father, the special voice she used to talk to cats, her kind frown, her intonation, her fingernails. ... I thought about the day it first occurred to me that, should she die, there would be no one in the world I truly loved. ... Are you just now realising that people die, Leah had said to me when I voiced this thought, tucked up beside her on the sofa with my knees pressed tight into the backs of hers. Not people, I had said, just you.

You're so alive, Maise. You're so here, so present in the moment. You've taught me that happiness is possible now, not in some distant future. You'll scale a mountain without a second thought, face your fears, throw yourself into danger, and you're not reckless but bold, proud. You have a lion's heart. You're not afraid to live.

The brain is an incredible multitasker. At the same time that it’s piercing itself with superheated needles of anguish, it’s ruthlessly making plans, contingencies, plotting out a future, giving zero fucks whether it’ll ever see it. On the day I die, it’ll be calculating what to have for dinner as it bombards itself with pain signals from my amputated legs or my clocked-out heart.

So Sonia was not my only or even my first best friend. She was the last. It wasn t that I hadn t made friends since just that I thought myself past the age of that particular kind of friendship. Adult friendship doesn t grant you an exclusive isn t meant to be ranked above romance and family. I couldn t imagine ever living that moment again when you say with a shy and hopeful pride You re my best friend. The other person says it back and there you have chosen each other out of everyone else in the world.

If there is one thing I can brag about and be proud of in my life, it’s my dedication to friendship. If I call you a friend, I mean it. You are now on par with being a family member. Friendships are not made overnight; it takes time, effort, and energy. For me, friendships are tested not in the best of times, but in the worst of times. You don’t always get a second chance to be there for someone when they really need you. So when I say I will be there, I mean it.

Honestly, the weirdest part is how they made it feel like this big coming out moment. Which can't be normal. As far as I know, coming out isn't something that straight kids generally worry about. That's the thing people wouldn't understand. This coming out thing. It's not even about me being gay, because I know deep down that my family would be fine with it. We're not religious. My parents are Democrats. My dad likes to joke around, and it would definitely be awkward, but I guess I'm lucky. I know they're not going to disown me. And I'm sure some people in school would give me hell, but my friends would be fine. Leah loves gay guys, so she'd probably be freaking thrilled. But I'm tired of coming out. All I ever do is come out. I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get girlfriends. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.