Lola's Girl Quotes

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who talked to the moon. And she was mysterious and she was perfect, in that way that girls who talk to moons are. In the house next door, there lived a boy. And the boy watched the girl grow more and more perfect, more and more beautiful with each passing year. He watched her watch the moon. And he began to wonder if the moon would help him unravel the mystery of the beautiful girl. So the boy looked into the sky. But he couldn't concentrate on the moon. He was too distracted by the stars. And it didn't matter how many songs or poems had already been written about them, because whenever he thought about the girl, the stars shone brighter. As if she were the one keeping them illuminated. One day, the boy had to move away. He couldn't bring the girl with him, so he brought the stars. When he'd look out his window at night, he would start with one. One star. And the boy would make a wish on it, and the wish would be her name. At the sound of her name, a second star would appear. And then he'd wish her name again, and the stars would double into four. And four became eight, and eight became sixteen, and so on, in the greatest mathematical equation the universe had ever seen. And by the time an hour had passed, the sky would be filled with so many stars that it would wake the neighbors. People wondered who'd turned on the floodlights. The boy did. By thinking about the girl.

You're doing the girl thing. Saying you're happy when you're not.

And it didn’t matter how many songs or poems had already been written about them, because whenever he thought about the girl, the stars shone brighter. As if she were the one keeping them illuminated.

Well, you're free without wanting to be,' he explained, 'it just happens so, that's all. But Mathieu's freedom is based on reason.' 'I still don't understand,' said Lola, shaking her head. 'Well, he doesn't care a curse about his apartment: he lives there just as he would live anywhere else, and I've got the feeling that he doesn't care much about his girl. He stays with her because he must sleep with someone. His freedom isn't visible, it's inside him.

Xav sprinkled olive oil on his lettuce. 'Lola was very particular that it all had to fit properly.' 'Lola?' squeaked Diamond. I wanted to warn her not to rise to the bait Xav was dangling in front of her but it was too late. Xav added some Parmesan and pepper. 'Suspicious, Diamond? You should be. This is a bachelor party I'm organizing, not a school outing, and it is going to tick all of Trace's boxes. Lola is either a very efficient water sports instructor or an exotic dancing girl; I'll leave it your imagination.' I rolled my eyes at Diamond. 'Myabe she's both. I mean the guys will really go for that, I guess. Don't worry,Di, Luigi and his crew will not disappoint us girls.' Luigi was in fact Contessa Nicoletta's little bespectacled chef with whom I had been consulting about the menu for Friday, but the Benedicts weren't to know that. 'He has promised to provide something suitably spicy for our tastes.

Before there was an American Story, before Paterson spread before Oscar and Lola like a dream, or the trumpets from the Island of our eviction had even sounded, there was their mother, Hypatia Belicia Cabral: a girl so tall your leg bones ached just looking at her, so dark it was as if the Creatrix had, in her making, blinked.

I should feel energized and powerful, invulnerable and potent, but all I feel is lost.

You have to fight for the people that you love. You. Have. To. Fight.

My body shook from pain, exhaustion, and the beginning of shock. I'd pay for all the powers I'd used, but the portal most of all. Good girls weren't supposed to open hell dimensions.

Your courage is in your tears. Every time you cry, you lose a little bit more of it. That’s why you’re so breakable. Not because you’re human, because you’re always shedding courage from your eyes.

I sit back and try to think. I've been discovering, much to my dismay, that I'm not a criminal mastermind or anything. I'm just brute force and my powers in no way include super-intelligence, which kind of pisses me off.

She thought I was being mean I was That's what happens when half of you is underground

Are you ok? they'll say. Tomorrow is one-year anniversary Of my dad's death, and since he's still Dead, I am not okay.

Where to?” he inquires. “A place called ‘none of your business’ and then I’ll stop at the ‘stay out of my life’ shop and get you a t-shirt.

He’s not mine. The only thing that’s truly mine is this bottomless despair.

Exercise, not philosophically and with religious gravity undertaken, but with the wild and romping activities of a spirited girl who runs up and down as if her veins were full of wine.

I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning;  It is better to live outside the Garden with her   than inside, without her….”                                                                                       —Mark Twain

Would you like some sacred chocolate?' a girl asked, appearing suddenly at Lara's side. 'They've very special chocolates,' she said, pushing a plate of the goods in Lara's direction. 'They're raw and sweetened with Stevia.' Stevia, huh? Lara grabbed a chocolate truffle and popped it into her mouth, winking at the girl. She hoped the 'stevia' would kick in soon, because frankly, it looked like these women were having a better time than she'd had in ages.

Oh, for a second I thought Donald Trump was a Runner,” I say, laughing at my own stupidity. Miku raises her eyebrows but refuses to say anything. Could it be? Is Trump a Runner?

So long as I get to hold you, none of it matters.

Most girls--' I began. Lola snapped up her hand. 'Be very careful what you say next, Henry Page,' she said. 'Very few good things come out of sentences that begin with "Most girls.

I'm afraid of everything I don't know.

It's hard to know what happy is if you're not sure if you've felt it before.

Letting go seems like the most powerful thing I could do. And so I do. I just let it all go. And it feels glorious.

Say something Sexy That will Linger In his mind Redrum SEXY, NOT SCARY! Oh, just forget it!

Says we can go to revival of The Rocky Horror Picture Show He wants us to come with So he can have someone's hand to squeeze When the beauty of Tim Curry is too much to bear

My eyebrows drew together at the idea of a little girl. “My seed is strong, woman. It makes big healthy boys. With large penises.

What kind of books are you reading?” He laughed. “I’ve never heard of any great literature with the premise of ‘easy girl becomes sex slave to powerful man.’ Put down the Harlequins and learn about real life, Lola. I neither want nor need you to do any sexual favors for me.” “I …” I mumbled, flabbergasted at his words. “I don’t read Harlequins.” “Good. I wouldn’t want you to go getting any dreams in your head about this situation. I know how you girls are.

I’m obsessed with a girl I barely know and should hate. I killed three guys because they touched her. I’m turning against my own crew for her and don’t even know her fucking middle name. Trust me when I say I don’t understand myself.

I read once that you need two things to be happy. Any two of health, money and love. You can cover the absence of one with the other two. I drew comfort from this idea while I was fully bodied, employed, and unloved. It made me feel I wasn't missing much. But now I realized this was unmitigated bullshit, because health and money did not compare with love at all. I had a girl in a hospital bed who liked me and I didn't know where that might go but I could tell it was more important than low blood pressure. It mattered more than a new car. With Lola in the same building, I walked with a spring in my step. That was true literally. But I mean I was happy, happy on an axis I had previously known about only in theory. I was glad to be alive.

Hey, I know you don’t know me but I’m falling for you and I want you to leave your drop-dead gorgeous model slash angel girlfriend and be with me. Oh and by the way, I’m the product of the most evil and horrendous crime a man can ever commit. So… you wanna grab a bite?

It's not like you ate Filipino food all the time. You loved Emperor's Way takeout, and the friendly Chinese girl there who you were too shy to ask but whose name tag said to call her Ming always gave you extra sauce for your orange chicken. The sweet potato pie from Butter was absolutely to die for, and it made you feel soft and warm the same way Lola's leche flan did. The youngest Manzano once handed you a delicious pastry without prompting or demanding payment before drifting away, seemingly lost in a world of her own. If this was a marketing strategy for their pastelería, it worked. But you could tell that there were differences in the way they cooked and baked, that they took old and treasured recipes and put in their own unique, modern spin to them. Why couldn't you do the same?

I was thirteen when I figured out this trick. My pre-awakening came early. Even then, I kicked my own ass to relieve stress. When I caught the first baby whiff of my omega perfume, I panicked, just ran and kept running, knowing that as soon as I started to mature, I’d be on the auction block. A toy for alphas who’ll never see me as a real girl. I ran so hard, so long, and so fast that the pheromones went away. When my perfume came back, a track workout sent that shit packing. The next day, I danced for eight hours and my hormones heard the message. We’re not doing this awakening thing.

No, it’s not. Stop keeping this from the ones you say you love. It doesn’t work. And you know why, because we know you. We women, who stand by you guys both in bed and in battle, we know you. We know what words to say to hurt you. What to say that will haunt you. And when you are wounded and your spirit broken, we know what to say to heal you. So when you look in our face and lie to us, it makes us girls want to stab you in the face.

absolve

Bianca, Bianca, Bianca. The guys chanted her name over and over again like she was the real MVP Kevin Durant had talked about in his acceptance speech. They followed her to center floor like a mob of wild animals, led by Jamal, until the cheerleading coach finally escorted the stampeding rhinos off the court.

Jada strutted into the parking lot with the Grim Reaper. He was dressed in all black oversized sweats that hung on his skeletal frame like he was trying to take her soul. She swung her Monica from Love & Basketball ponytail as far as she could throw it, putting on a display of teen fastness. This was exactly what he was afraid of.

Bianca and the girls confidently left the store, discussing whether they should go to Forever 21 or H&M first. Just when they thought they had dodged him, Wish I Was His Airness himself jumped from the smoke shop next door. He strategically flipped the blue and white Aces letterman over his shoulder as if the cameraman had said, “Action!” at a Nike commercial shoot.

WITHOUT A WOMB THERE WOULD BE NO YOU! @FRIENDINYOURPOCKET

It was three weeks later that the letter from Rose’s publisher arrived. He had written to say that he loved the idea of a book about herbal remedies for humans. The letter contained an advance that would tide her over until well after the baby was due. “We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?” She passed the check to Lola, who passed it on to Nieve. They beamed at each other as the child read the amount out loud. “What’s that funny squiggle in front of the number?” She thrust the check up to Rose’s face. “It’s a pound sign—in England we have pounds instead of pesetas.” “How much is it—in pesetas?” When Rose told her, Nieve gasped. “Just for writing a book?” “It’s going to take me quite a long time.” Rose smiled. “And when she’s finished it, she’s going to need a rest.” Lola scooped Nieve up and sat her on her lap. “Why?” “Because next year—in the spring—Auntie Rose is going to have a baby.” Nieve turned to Rose, her mouth open. “Will it be a girl or a boy?” Rose laughed. “I don’t know! We’ll have to wait and see.” “Can I choose its name?” “Well, if it’s a girl, yes, you can—but if it’s a boy . . .” Rose glanced at Lola. “I already have a boy’s name.” “I think I can guess,” Lola said. “Nathan.

Why do some Germans become Nazis, and others resist?’ ‘You know the answer, darling,’ Heidi said, putting her arm around Lola. ‘A few are monsters, the rest look away.

I was fourteen years-old, singing and strumming away on my six-string acoustic guitar to the songs of the sixties and seventies limited to the aforementioned “Cocaine,” “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” and “House of the Rising Sun.” I had no idea Lola was a man and someone else was glad they were a man. I always tell people, “I’ve been to that desert. I’ve been on that horse and he did have a name, I just was never allowed to tell anyone.

Lola—a girl so outwardly preoccupied with wokeness; who only read overhyped memoirs written by women under thirty having feeble epiphanies about themselves; who had “she/her” written in all her social media bios despite very clearly never being in danger of being misgendered—

Usually she can spot the tragic ones from a mile away. Anna is deceptive, not a word Victoria would have picked out for her at first. Those bright, sunny smiles don’t give away anything of the pain she must be carrying. How heavy is the loss if the girl can still barely speak about it, other than in such an oblique way?

You just keep fighting back, Billie. I’ll make you cave, eventually.” “Is that how you convince girls to be your girlfriends?” “No,” he snorts. “I don’t do girlfriends. But I’ll make an exception for you.

To all my girls who, on their way to their prince, lost themselves in the villain's arms.

To all my girls who, on their way to their prince, lost themselves in the villain's arms.

To all my girls who, on their way to their prince, lost themselves in the villain's arms.

Once in my room I don't have a goddamn clue what to do.

I'm going to kill you. And you know what? You totally deserve it.

I'll always be the girl crying on her bed.

I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided…” —Charles Dickens

In order to become the woman you are meant to be, you must let go of the girl you were…” —Nicole Lambeck-Johnson

Sabrina turns back to the fight, and I think she’s ignoring her chance to make fun of Ryder, then I realize she’s quietly humming “Hero” by Skillet. I shake my head with a smile. Those girls are really making Ryder pay for his comment.

Loneliness resides at the bottom of a KFC bucket.

wash my hands and head out the door. The urge to ditch doesn’t last long. Besides, even if I had ditched class, where would I go? Everyone who cut class today had something fun and exciting to do. Their life had urgency and meaning. My life, on the other hand, is routine and ordinary.

Okay note to self: news of the end of the world is best taken on an empty stomach.

I don’t want to be theirs. I don’t want to be anyone’s until I can try on what it’s like to be myself, because all this time, I feel like I haven’t met the real, actual Lilah. The girl I might’ve become if Mom hadn’t thrown me away.

anyway):

I picked up my glass of water and sucked some down, my mouth suddenly as dry as a used-up, sixty-year-old porn star. How’s

I don’t know if I should be concerned that you’ve been sitting there staring at your dick for the past minute and a half, or proud that you finally found the little guy after thirty-five years.” I

Anything would’ve been better than going on a date with Grayson Lockhart. Padded rooms could be fun, right? All that bouncing from wall to wall without the threat of breaking a bone. Plus, straightjackets probably felt like hugs. My

time? I picked up my glass of water and sucked some down, my mouth suddenly as dry as a used-up, sixty-year-old porn star. How’s

Such a heavy burden, isn’t it?” “It’s

sage.’” “What

Dash Counters “Whatever is like tofu You can slice, dice, fry, roast Grill, glaze Sauté it But it’s still tofu And don’t nobody want it” “What do you want then?” “The meat, honey: the truth

M&S, Lola’s and Hummingbird should offer an emergency 2 a.m. cupcake delivery service for people going through a break-up, because sometimes a girl just needs to bury her face in frosted icing to feel better.

LOLA Oh, no. She’s probably going out with Turk tonight. DOC    She’s too nice a girl to be going out with a guy like Turk. LOLA I don’t know why, Daddy. Turk’s nice.

LOLA    You try to make out like every young girl is Jennifer Jones in the Song of Bernadette.

Lola told her mother she took a bunch of Tylenol the day after she did it. Her mother took immediate action. In many ways, maybe girls are testing—do you still love me? Is the love the same, now that I’m no longer a little girl? Do you love me in the awkwardness of age eleven or twelve, the uncertainty and insecurity of age thirteen, the rebellion and back talk of fourteen? It’s hard for a mom, who was once adored and once the center of the world, to be glared and scowled at when she says, “That skirt is too short” or “You have to be home by midnight,” “Who are you going out with?” “What will you be doing?

Clearly she had been forgiven, but they had also settled into the maddening familiarity of friendship; maddening for her at least, lying on the fresh spring grass, their hands almost touching as he told her about Lola, this incredible Spanish girl he’d met while skiing in the Pyrenees.