No Spoilers Quotes

Spoiler alert: Love is worth everything. Everything.

I've never felt so... light.

I love you, Ella. I will love you for the rest of my life. My heart is yours. Please don't ever give it back to me. - Warner

Say it,” I gritted out. “The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.

Those who pray for your downfall are concentrating negative thoughts towards you, without taking cognisance of the slippery ground in which they are standing, which could lead to their downfall.

You think these recent events are everything. You think Aaron fell in love with your friend of several months, a rebel girl named Juliette. You don't know. You don't know. You don't know that Aaron has been in love with Ella for the better part of his entire life. They've known each other since childhood...…..The reason he had to keep wiping their memories was because it didn't matter how many times he reset the story or remade the introductions - Aaron always fell in love with her. Every time. - Delalieu

Wake up, you bastard," — he said. "You fucker. I can't believe that you would ..." And he began to cry.

His eyes were green.

You are my whole heart, Scarlet. And this is breaking it.' My heart cracked open and clear dropped out of me. My mouth opened, and I looked round me and stamped my foot. 'Does this look like a good time to tell me that, you damn stupid boy?' I meant to sound mean but my voice wobbled. 'Now?' He gave a little smile. 'My foul-mouthed warrior.

Young girls are like helpless children in the hands of amorous men, whatever is said to them is true and whatever manipulation on their bodies seems like love to them, sooner or later, they come back to their senses, but the scars are not dead inasmuch as her spoiler lives.

Because I am from Terrasen and believed my queen dead. And now she is alive, and fighting, so I will fight with her. So that no other girls will be taken from their homes and brought to Morath and forgotten.

This is, after all, what we're fighting for, isn't it? A second chance at joy. - Ella

I know how strong you are, Nina. My death will not be the thing that defeats you.

That you could love me at all seems like some kind of miracle." She smiles, even as she shakes her head. "That's ridiculous," she says. "It's very, very easy to love you." -Warner and Ella

Please tell me people who look like us can be loved. Please tell me people who look like us can be desired. Please tell me people who look like us can have happy endings.

Forgive me. I know it all seems stupid now, but I don't want to take anything for granted anymore. Forgive me for hurting you. Forgive me for not trusting you. I took my pain out on you and I'm so sorry. I was selfish, and I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. - Ella

Don't become a random photograph in the eyes of friends, and even your enemies, for each glance at your face will cause a declination of value and reputation. Create value, through scarcity.

Amy! My God! My God! My darling!' and buried my face in her neck, my arms wrapped tight around her, and let the cameras get their fifteen seconds, and I whispered deep inside her ear, 'You fucking bitch.

If you truly love me in return, accept me as I am. If you can't accept me as I am, maybe you need to rethink your definition of love.

But I'm not looking to be fixed. I want to be loved and liked and desired not because of my size, not despite my size, but because I'm ME

I promised I'd save him, take him home! I promised him!" . . . Thomas hugged Chuck to his chest, squeezed him as tightly as possible, as if that could somehow bring him back, or show thanks for saving his life, for being his friend when no one else would. Thomas cried, wept like he'd never wept before. His great, racking sobs echoed through the chamber like the sounds of tortured pain. (pg 358 hardback)

I feel it, I feel my thin morals dissolving. I feel my flimsy, moth-eaten skin of humanity begin to come apart, and with it, the veil keeping me from complete darkness. There are no lines I won't cross. No illusions of mercy. I wanted to be better for her. For her happiness. For her future. But if she's gone, what good is goodness? - Warner

These days, in the world of apps and social media and … idiot friends, it is literally impossible to avoid spoilers. If a character dies, it is gonna be the number one trending topic on Twitter, it is gonna be the top trending story on Facebook — and Reddit and Tumblr just turn into a completely uncensored memorial service of memes. This happens all the time with sports results, but — I shit you not — I once got a notification from the BBC News app saying that a character in a show I was watching had just died! I thought that news notifications are supposed to be for impending natural disasters, not for just ruining my bloody afternoon.

In this new, turbulent reality, the one person I recognize is him. My memories of him - memories of us - have done something to me. I've changed somewhere deep inside. I feel different. Heavier, like my feet have been more firmly planted, liberated by certainty, free to grow roots here in my own self, free to trust unequivocally in the strength and steadiness of my own heart. It's an empowering discovery, to find that I can trust myself - even when I'm not myself - to make the right choices. To know for certain now that there was at least one mistake I never made. Aaron Warner Anderson is the only emotional through line in my life that ever made sense. He's the only constant. The only steady, reliable heartbeat I've ever had. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, Aaron. I had no idea how much we'd lost, no idea how much of him I'd longed for. I had no idea how desperately we'd been fighting. How many years we'd fought for moments - minutes - to be together. It fills me with a painful kind of joy. - Ella

No walking! No standing, no bending, no moving, no accessing the Shadow Roads, nothing. You don't swim for an hour after eating, you don't swan around like an idiot for an hour after narrowly avoiding death.' 'Toby does,' said Quentin. 'Toby is genetically predisposed to swan around like an idiot,' Jin shot back. 'Now sit.

Since approximately half the humans on this planet either have gotten or will get periods, I’ve always found that particular brand of squeamishness ridiculous.

Spoiler: the princess saves herself in this fairytale.

You've got to look out for number one. If you're really worried about not being spoiled, just pound on through that book guys. Just read the shit out of it.

I had a dream about you." "Yeah?" "You looked so pretty like always, and you were coming toward me in a white dress. The closer you got to me, the more you cried. And when you were close enough, I grabbed your hand." .... "... After the minister said a prayer, I told you how beautiful you were." "Asher- " "I told you that every star in the sky was made for you, and they were, Kate. You light up my world even in my darkest moments. I told you that I loved you over and over again because I do, Kate. I love you so much, <spoiler>and the thought of leaving you alone is killing me more than cancer ever could."</spoiler>

No spoilers!” “It’s history!” “History that I don’t know.

Tessa reached to brush the damp hair from his forehead. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing. “Jem—have you ever—” She hesitated. “Have you ever thought of ways to prolong your life that are not a cure for the drug?”   At that his eyelids flew open. “What do you mean?”   She thought of Will, on the floor of the attic, choking on holy water. “Becoming a vampire. You would live forever—”   He scrambled upright against the pillows of the bed. “Tessa, no. Don’t—you can’t think that way.”    “Is the thought of becoming a Downworlder truly so horrible to you?”   “Tessa …” He exhaled slowly. “I am a Shadowhunter. Nephilim. Like my parents before me. It is the heritage I claim, just as I claim my mother’s heritage as part of myself. It does not mean I hate my father. But I honor the gift they gave me, the blood of the Angel, the trust placed in me, the vows I have taken. Nor, I think, would I make a very good vampire. [redacted for spoilers] I would no longer be Will’s parabatai, no longer be welcome in the Institute. No, Tessa. I would rather die and be reborn and see the sun again, than live to the end of the world without daylight.”   “A Silent Brother, then,” she said.    His eyes softened slightly. “The path of Silent Brotherhood is not open to me.

You are not my sunshine. Sorry. You're more like a gust of arctic wind that bursts in and blows out all the candles when the door cracks open.

Protect your good image from the eyes of negative viewers, who may look at your good appearance with an ugly fiendish eye, and ruin your positive qualities with their chemical infested tongues. If the words from the mouth of an abusive man makes you angry, quit the whole arena and you'll discover he had got his mouth shut.

I have to let you go,' he said in a cracked whisper. 'While I can. Leave me that, Fitz. That I broke the bond. That I did not take what was not mine.

I came to the Pipers for you.

WINTER SPOILER - KINDA IDRK Cinder looked away. Though so much had changed between them since that night, it still felt like an ice pick in her heart when she remembered the way he'd looked at her, and his horrified words: You're even more painful to look at than she is.

The next day you look at the new pages. For once you don't want to burn them or give up writing forever. It's a start, you say to the room. ...In the months that follow you bend to the work, because it feels like hope, like grace-- and because you know in your lying cheater's heart that sometimes a start is all we ever get.

I mean your borrowers of books - those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes.

When Albert Einstein told you to hide your source, he wasn't giving you a deliberate advice to conceal the root in which you're growing, but was to conceal the root from the eyes of people that will dare to uproot it.

I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed forever—that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil, then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connection? And why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform; we must continue our course with the rest and learn to think ourselves fortunate whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized.

Your lack of anger does not reliably indicate a lack of wrong done to you.

Spoiler alert: Apparently, alicorn vomit was just as sparkly as their poop.

I know you’re clever, but do you really think you’re going to outsmart the ocean?

Thing is, you don't ever go back Maddie, to life before, and my advice is to accept that. To accept that you're not the same person you were when (view spoiler) and you can't be again. Accept that your life is different now because of this monumental, irreversible change and that it's okay to feel guilty one day and indescribable happiness another. This is life now. This is how you live.

WINTER SPOILER KINDA Cinder stared at his whitened knuckles and struggled for something meaningful to say. Her grand plan of revolution and change had just begun and already she felt like a failure. This seemed worse than failing the people of Luna, though. She'd failed the people she cared about most in the universe. Finally, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Thorne." "Yeah," he said. "Me too.

He guides my fingers under his hair to the nape of his neck. To the shape of a crescent moon.

Alistair spoke behind his visor. "You look very pretty." Mouse looked to Eanrin. "He sounds concerned. What did he say?" "He said they're never going to believe you're a girl.

I do not have the money anymore. It was all yours, after all. I slipped the check into the silk lining of the coffin when I kissed you good-bye for the last time.

She was a spoiler, a needler, an underminer, a diminisher, simply by instinct.

Human race spoilers: we go extinct and none of this shit matters at all. So just enjoy yourself.

Spoiler Alert: We all die in the end

Some scriptwriters believe death and misery and stagnation are more clever, more meaningful, and more authentic to reality than love and happiness and change. But life isn't all misery, and finding a path through hard, hard lives to joy is tough, clever, meaningful work.

Crow shrugged. "What is death? The loss of a body? The loss of the animating spark? If that's the case, I am dead. "Or is life the persistence of memory and emotion, volition and desire?" Crow went on, as if in a debate with himself. "If that's the case, I am very much alive.

I walked to his bedside table next. Infinite Mayhem. the ninth sequel to The Prince of Dawn, lay atop the table next to his reading lamp, the corner of page 138 turned down. He'd never made it to the end of the book. 'Spoiler alert: Mayhem survives,' I said out loud to him, just in case he could hear me.

The dead still come to me every now and then. But the lulls between are getting smaller. They are finding me somehow. I tell them why they can’t move on. I listen to their lives and talk to them if they need it. I still draw their portraits in my sketchbook, with their stories. I put Mary Summer in there too. Someone should remember.

He had noticed my bandaged hand. "An accident," Warthrop said tersely. "Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife." Von Helrung's brow knotted up in confusion. "By accident?" "No," I answered. "That part was on purpose.

Depressed" is a word that often describes somebody who is feeling sad and gloomy, but in this case it describes a secret button, hidden in a crow statue, that is feeling just fine, thank you.

actually have a bigger spoiler for everyone: We all die at the end. Every single one of us. But once again, how we die, or the fact that we die isn’t the point at all. I can’t spoil the answer for this next question, but I hope it’s one we keep on our minds daily: How did we live?

Spoiler alert. Mayhem lives.

SPOILER ALERT: We all die in the end.

Caleb,' I say. 'I love you.

Of course I'm trying to trick you!" Olaf cried. "That's the way of the world, Baudelaires. Everybody runs around with their secrets and their schemes, trying to outwit everyone else. Ishmael outwitted me, and put me in this cage. But I know how to outwit him and all his islander friends. If you let me out. I can be king of Olaf-land, and you three can be my new henchfolk." "We don't want to be your henchfolk," Klaus said. "We just want to be safe." "Nowhere in the world is safe," Count Olaf said.

So that was what had happened before the survey. Now we’re here, ready for the next major disaster. (Spoiler alert.)

she loved shiny things, always had. But he wasn't a diamond. Just fool's gold.

So if he'd been a plumber, ___ _____ would've been about toilets?" Left blank to avoid spoilers but this is just too funny :)

You're an idiot," Snufkin said. "Or still worse, you're a story spoiler.

Spoiler alert: Boys are savages.

That night, I ate... the meat of a snail person.

She swallows and looks down at her hands clenched in her lap. “I don’t like this story.” “Should I jump to the ending? Spoiler alert: the hero saves her.” Tabby looks over at me, her eyes shining like gems in the dark. “A real hero would teach the princess how to save herself.

Oh my son! My son!" von Helrung cried. Now it was his turn to crush my master to his chest. "William! Your father has come for you!" "I hope not! My father has been dead over fifteen years, von Helrun.

Everyone's surprised by death. Which is kind of ridiculous when you think about it. It's not exactly a spoiler. But I think that what really shocked me is how many people can't see the shape of the life they've lived until they get to the very end of it.

Yes," he said, shrugging. "Maybe you didn't understand when I said I"d love you forever, but I meant I'd love you forever. There were no qualifiers or addendums to that vow, nothing that would void it out based on your actions." His smile lit up the night. "To make sure you're clear on this, let me repeat myself. I'll love you forever, Bryn Dawson, no matter how determined you might be to screw it up." "No conditions?" I asked. "Not even (spoiler omitted) He shook his head. "I think that's why they call it unconditional.

Spoiler alert: Bambi’s mom doesn’t make it.

I am the only fucking person in this car and on this planet who can decide what my career is worth, he'd raged, offended fury in every syllable, and it's not worth my fucking soul.

Saul's vitals were not human, but familiar: he never told me he was from another world: I never told him I was from his future.

Ah. And then you kill him." "No," Arkwright replied patiently. "We are British. We avoid murder if we can help it.{...}

The monstrumologist closed his eyes. "You should not have come, Will Henry." And I answered, "You should not have left me, Dr. Warthrop.

We have just discovered our dear colleague butchered in a hotel room, and you wish to discuss literature?

When I look up at him, the gloating smile falls off my lips faster than Ned Stark’s head hit the ground — sorry, spoiler alert — because there’s a look on his face I can’t quite describe.

He joined Jude in the kitchen and began making a salad, and JB slumped to the dining-room table and started flipping through a novel Jude had left there. "I read this," he called over to him. "Do you want to know what happens in the end?" "No, JB," said Jude. "I'm only halfway through." "The minister character dies after all." "JB!" After that, JB's mood seemed to improve.

Spoilers follow I started reading the third act of Hamlet, and I got about two pages in when I realized there's no point. I am never going back to school. I am never going to the university. I am never going to watch wolves stalk through the northern forests or elephants graze on the savanna. I am never going to have sex or get married or raise a family. I'm never going to have a first apartment, a first house, a first car. I'm never

Spoiler alert: The good life is a complicated life. For everybody. The good life is joyful… and challenging. Full of love, but also pain. And it never strictly happens; instead, the good life unfolds, through time. It is a process. It includes turmoil, calm, lightness, burdens, struggles, achievements, setbacks, leaps forward, and terrible falls. And of course, the good life always ends in death.

Sometimes they blundered because their personal histories hadn’t taught them to be sensitive to certain issues. And sometimes they blundered because— Sometimes they blundered because they had trust issues. Major trust issues.

I walked until the water lapped against my chest, and then I kept walking until it kissed the underside of my jaw. I was surprised how cold it was. I closed my eyes and ducked beneath the surface. Thee was the wind and the clouds and the pure pool and the boy beneath its unsettled surface, and the blood, the boy's and monster's, defiling the pool.

She struggled in thought to discover why it was she felt that these people did not read books and that she herself did. She felt that she could look at the end, and read here and there a little and know; know something, something they did not know. People thought it was silly, almost wrong to look at the end of a book. But if it spoilt a book, there was something wrong about the book. If it was finished and the interest gone when you know who married who, what was the good of reading at all? It was a sort of trick, a sell. Like a puzzle that was no more fun when you had found it out. There was something more in books than that. . even Rosa Nouchette Carey and Mrs. Hungerford, something that came to you out of the book, any bit of it, a page, even a sentence - and the "stronger" the author was the more came.

I’m not sure posting pictures there is a great idea.” It was more or less the same advice April had received for more than thirty years: If people are cruel, make yourself smaller and smaller, until you’re so inconsequential no one can target you.

And he had just sent her into the arms of her strongest potential allies: to the homeland of her mother, the kingdom of her cousin, and the domain of her aunt, Queen Maeve of the Fae. Celaena was the lost Queen of Terrasen. Chaol sank to his knees

And John Kearns whispered into my ear: "Do you see it now? *You* are the nest. *You* are the hatchling. *You* are the chrysalis. *You* are the progeny. *You* are the rot that falls from the stars. All of us--you and I and poor, dear Pellinore. Behold the face of the magnificum, child. And despair." Though I was sickened by the sight, I looked. In the bower of the beast at the top of the world, I beheld the face of the magnificum, and I did not turn away.

Tonight you’re mine. I’ll just wait to cook you breakfast until the day after tomorrow. And every day after that, until next November 9th when I get down on one knee and give you the most book-worthy marriage proposal in history.' She slaps me in the chest. 'That was a huge spoiler, Ben! Did you not learn about spoiler alerts during your reading binge?' I grin as I lower my mouth to hers. 'Spoiler alert. They lived happily ever after.' And then I kiss her. And it’s a twelve.

She died calmly; and her countenance expressed affection even in death. I need not describe the feelings of those who dearest ties are rent by that most irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she, whom we saw every day, and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed for ever - that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished, and the sound of a voice so familiar, and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. These are the reflections of the first days; but when the lapse of time proves the reality of the evil then the actual bitterness of grief commences. Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connexion; and why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed sacrilege, is not banished. My mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to preform; we must continue our course with the rest, and learn to think ourselves fortunate, whilst one remains whom the spoiler has not seized.

She'd almost forgotten how it felt to squeeze into a space too cramped to contain her comfortably. She'd almost forgotten the specific pain of attempting to make herself as small as possible, contorting her arms and legs in a way that hurt her joints and made relaxation impossible. She'd almost forgotten the reality of her life.

Spoiler: I didn't win the Main Event. You had suspicions, you say? For one thing, the subtitle of this book would be "The Amazing Life-Affirming Story of an Unremarkable Jerk Who Won the World Series of Poker!" instead of having the word "Death" in it. For another, do these sound like the words of a motherfucker who won a million goddamn dollars?

So yeah, maybe the title ruined the reading experience for some people. But I actually have a bigger spoiler for everyone: We all die at the end. Every single one of us. But once again, how we die, or the fact that we die isn’t the point at all. I can’t spoil the answer for this next question, but I hope it’s one we keep in our minds daily: how did we live?

A world without rape would be a world in which women moved freely without fear of men. That some men rape provides a sufficient threat to keep all women in a constant state of intimidation, forever conscious of the knowledge that the biological tool must be held in awe for it may turn to weapon with sudden swiftness borne of harmful intent...Rather than society's abberants or"spoilers of purity," men who rape have serves in effect as front-line masculine shock troops, terrorists guerrillas in the longest sustained battle the world has ever known.

Or written anew. Every spell that exists was once spoken for the first time, by a witch who needed it.” Bella actually claps her hands together. “Then the library could be . . . oh, but it would take so much work.” The Crone huffs. “It always does.” “Always?” “Avalon wasn’t the first library. Alexandria, Antioch, Avicenna . . . They keep burning us. We keep rising again.

I’m trying to fix a problem I caused, not start more of them.” “Then fix what actually matters here, and spoiler warning, it’s not the vase.” “I…” I lose the rest of my sentence. “What was the point of going back to rehab if you were only going to start drinking again?” My heart feels like someone split it apart with the jaws of life. “I had lost my reason for getting sober in the first place.” Her brows furrow. “What? Money? Hockey? The will to live a normal life?” “You, Lana. I lost you.

Can't fail if I don't try." ... "You're absolutely right. You'd regret trying and failing. But I'll do you one better. If you don't try, give it all you've got, you'll regret the hell out of never knowing if you would have succeeded. ... "Because regret haunts you for the rest of your life," Sewanee chimed in from the cheap seats. She hadn't intended to say anything, but as soon as she felt the answer it was out of her mouth. She caught Marilyn's eye. Her mother smiled sadly at her. "It's like a ghost that refuses to leave your house." Stu bugged his eye. "Why's it gotta leave? What, you think you can get through life avoiding regret? Avoiding failure?" He laughed. "Spoiler alert" life is regret, life is failure. But like that ghost, you learn to live with it. Because failure makes success matter.

We were no longer, technically, children although in many ways I am quite sure that we were. Childish has become a term of contempt. "Don't be childish, darling." "I hope to Christ I am. Don't be childish yourself." It is possible to be grateful that no one that you would willingly associate with you say, "Be mature. Be well-balanced, be well-adjusted." Africa, being as old as it is, makes all people except the professional invaders and spoilers into children. No one says to anyone in Africa, "Why don't you grow up?" . . . Men know that they are children in relation to the country and, as in armies, seniority and senility ride close together. But to have the heart of a child is not a disgrace. It is an honor. A man must comport himself as a man. . . . But it is never a reproach that he has kept a child's heart, a child's honesty and a child's freshness and nobility.

I had a chance to read Monte Christo in prison once, too, but not to the end. I observed that while Dumas tries to create a feeling of horror, he portrays the Château d'If as a rather benevolent prison. Not to mention his missing such nice details as the carrying of the latrine bucket from the cell daily, about which Dumas with the ignorance of a free person says nothing. You can figure out why Dantès could escape. For years no one searched the cell, whereas cells are supposed to be searched every week. So the tunnel was not discovered. And then they never changed the guard detail, whereas experience tells us that guards should be changed every two hours so one can check on the other. At the Château d'If they didn't enter the cells and look around for days at a time. They didn't even have any peepholes, so d'If wasn't a prison at all, it was a seaside resort. They even left a metal bowl in the cell, with which Dantès could dig through the floor. Then, finally, they trustingly sewed a dead man up in a bag without burning his flesh with a red-hot iron in the morgue and without running him through with a bayonet at the guardhouse. Dumas ought to have tightened up his premises instead of darkening the atmosphere.

792. Thief.-- N. thief, robber, homo trium literarum, pilferer, rifler, filcher, plagiarist. spoiler, depredator, pillager, marauder; harpy, shark, land-shark, falcon, moss-trooper, bushranger, Bedouin, brigand, freebooter, bandit, thug, dacoit, pirate, corsair, viking, Paul Jones; buccan-eer, -ier; piqu-, pick-eerer; rover, ranger, privateer, filibuster; rapparee, wrecker, picaroon; smuggler, poacher, plunderer, racketeer. highwayman, Dick Turpin, Claude Duval, Macheath, knight of the road, foodpad, sturdy beggar; abductor, kidnapper. cut-, pick-purse; pick-pocket, light-fingered gentry; sharper; card-, skittle-sharper; crook; thimble-rigger; rook, Greek, blackleg, leg, welsher, defaulter; Autolycus, Cacus, Barabbas, Jeremy Diddler, Robert Macaire, artful dodger, trickster; swell mob, chevalier d'industrie; shop-lifter. swindler, peculator; forger, coiner, counterfeiter, shoful; fence, receiver of stolen goods, duffer; smasher. burglar, housebreaker; cracks-, mags-man; Bill Sikes, Jack Sheppard, Jonathan Wild, Raffles, cat burglar. [Roget's Thesaurus, 1941 Revision]