Release Patrick Ness Quotes

Choices may be unbelievably hard but they're never impossible. To say you have no choice is to release yourself from responsibility and that's not how a person with integrity acts.

They're your parents. They're meant to love you because. Never in spite.

Never pass up the chance to be kissing someone. It's the worst kind of regret.

It was so much easier to be loved than to have to do any of the desperate work of loving.

Maybe hearts don't ever stop breaking once broken.

Death is not the end.

Blame is a human concept, one of its blackest and most selfish and self-binding.

Why did everyone no longer a teenager automatically dismiss any feeling you had then? Who cared if he’d grow out of it? That didn’t make it any less true in those painful and euphoric days when it was happening.

Blame is something that is shared and denied in equal measures.

Marty: Dad's right about you. You got lost on your journey somewhere. Adam: That's what everyone says who never bothered to go on a journey in the first place.

Little girls aren't naturally lost," Karen said, frowning as she scanned saucepans. "Someone makes them that way.

To say you have no choice is to release yourself from responsibility and that’s not how a person with integrity acts.

And there. The power of a word. The power of one word. That's where it all changes.

It may cost you, my Queen. It may cost you dear." "All the best journeys do, faun.

Maybe there didn’t have to be any other reasons. Maybe love made you stupid. Maybe loneliness did.

People with really stiff morals are easier to tip over.

You got lost on your journey somewhere." "That's what everyone says who never bothered to go on a journey in the first place.

He’d heard once that the only people who could effectively treat the trauma of surviving an airplane crash were other survivors of airplane crashes. You could only instinctively trust someone who had been there, who had seen it firsthand.

Tread carefully, Marty. I mean it. The world has completely changed around you while you weren't looking.

Upset isn't the same as the world falling apart.

If you can't pray it away, it's not a real problem.

Never pass up the chance to be kissing someone. It’s the worst kind of regret.

Raising his eyes to look directly into Linus's face was maybe the scariest thing he'd had to do all day long, but it was only the free-falling terror that always accompanied hope.

Every gay has to have their years in a huge coastal city. It's like a law.

They're your parents. They're meant to love you because. Never in spite.

What if it'd been Simone down there instead of Todd?” I say. And Simone is all over his Noise, his deep feelings for her, feelings I don't think are returned. “You're right,” he says, “I don't know. I hope I'd make the right choice, but Viola it is a choice. To say you have no choice is to release yourself from responsibility and that's not how a person with integrity acts.

If she needed him, he'd be there instantly, no questions asked, and he knew she'd do the same. She was here now. They had their bulgogi. This is what a family was. Or should be.

an act that didn't feel like penetration, but like combination

You must release me or you will never be released.

His chest still burned, so much he couldn’t tell where the anger stopped and the wound began.

Is it not a shame," she says, "that we must wait until the end of the world for all boundaries to fall?

But here, now, again, this was more than the body, or the mind, or the personality. It wasn't holy, that was a whole other mess, but it was something that could be touched only here.

But then she thinks, feels, reaches out, and knowing exactly what blame is - a human construct, one of its blackest and more selfish and self-blinding - she can find further strands of it, emanating in all directions, for blame is something that is shared but denied in equal measure.

She can smell him now, a smudge of unwashed skin, poverty, extreme loneliness. She takes the can, still holding his hand, unrolling it, running a finger across its weathered palm.

Es mucho mas fácil ser objeto de amor que tener que llevar a cabo la complicada tarea de amar.

Physical beauty, of all the curses, was obviously the best you could get. It was still a curse though.

Well, Adam thought. I've had my mouth on his bare skin. That seemed to be effective.

What if, on some level, way down deep inside, right down to the very simplest, purified form of who he was, what if he was corrupted? What if there was some tiny, tiny fault in the first building blocks of who he was, and everything since that moment of life was just papering over an essential crack? And he was just a carapace built on a facade built on scaffolding and there was no real core to him, no real central worth? At all?

He had loved Enzo. Loved him. And who cared if it was the love of a fifteen - and then a sixteen-year-old. Why did that make any less? They were older than those two idiots in Romeo and Juliet. Why did everyone no longer a teenager automatically dismiss any feeling you had then? Who cared if he'd grow out of it? That didn't make it any less true in those painful and euphoric days when it was happening. The truth was always now, even if you were young. Especially if you were young.

My parents believed that baby talk and avoiding topics was almost child abuse. That you'd end up raising swaddled little morons to send out into the world to be eaten alive. I preferred it when adults expected me to teach up to them rather than always leaning down to me.

And for a second, a second he would relive for years to come, Adam found himself considering it. Would it really be so bad? Wade didn't look like someone who would ever take his time about anything, and if it was over quick, who would really be harmed...? He would. The thought of Wade's hands on his bare skin alone gave him goosebumps, already felt like a violation, but if... If he deserved this. (Did he?) If Wade has spotted in him - as he obviously had - that corruption at his heart, that little piece of unfixable brokenness - It's not real love, Marty said. We're just messing around, Enzo said. Maybe it was all true. Maybe this is what happened to people like him. (People like what?)

Adam’s stomach was tumbling with how much Linus knew and how he’d found it all out (it would turn out he knew as much as nearly everyone else in the school, which was a lot, but it also turned out that – in that unreachable, possible world – most of them actually liked Adam or at least didn’t actively wish him harm, so they’d given his sorrow some space; when Adam thought about it now, it still made his head swim, still made him blush, still made him wish he could crawl under a blanket and die there forever) – but looking at Linus, he saw no malice, no gossip, saw instead someone who might actually know.