Siobhan Quotes

You can decorate absence however you want- but your still gonna feel what’s missing.

It's a weird smile, but it reaches his eyes and I bottle it. And I put it in my ammo pack that's kept right next to my soul and Justine's spirit and Siobhan's hope and Tara's passions. Because if I'm going to wake up one morning and not be able to get out of bed, I'm going to need everything I've got to fight this disease that could be sleeping inside of me.

Siobhan says that if you raise one eyebrow it can means lots of different things. It can mean 'I want to do sex with you' and it can also mean 'I think what you just said was very stupid.

She's tired and leans her head on his shoulder, which is the resting place for all their heads, but when Justine and Siobhan and Francesca use his body so shamelessly he doesn't feel the need to turn his head and press his mouth against their hair.

Fall colors are funny. They’re so bright and intense and beautiful. It’s like nature is trying to fill you up with color, to saturate you so you can stockpile it before winter turns everything muted and dreary.

Sometimes, when you get something new, you trick yourself into believing it has the power to change absolutely everything about you.

You see, the best thing about wrong decisions is that they don’t prevent you from making the right decisions later on. It’s harder, but it’s not impossible.

Your friends are at the house.' I sit up, straight. 'Who'? 'I don't know. Weird people. The Sullivan girl, whose father got the Gosford police to pick you up.' 'Siobhan?' 'And another one who's making cups of tea for everyone, and keeping the boy who's telling Luca fart jokes away from the girl who says he's "the last bastion of patriarchal poor taste".' 'Justine, Thomas and Tara.' And the drug fiend, Jimmy, is keeping Mia calm and the Trombal boy's rung about ten times. I don't like his manner on the phone.' 'You won't like any guy's manner on the phone.

So I ring Justine Kalinsky and I say, "It's Francesca Spinelli," and she says, "Francesca, you've got to stop using last names. How are you doing?" and I say "I feel like shit", and I don't know how it happens, but by eight o'clock that night I'm lying next to her on the couch with Siobhan and Tara and we're eating junk food and watching a Keanu movie. And I want to stay on that couch for the rest of my life.

The two horsewomen of the apocalypse still win, despite their dwindling numbers.

I let myself have feelings for you despite not knowing how this would end.

That's how inside jokes usually are. Funny to those inside, annoying as shit to the rest of the world.

If you’re super tall, don’t be a dick and stand in front of a short person.

The studying, the books, exams, arguments, theories. The jokes and pints, laughter, kisses and songs. Life was like running, ninety percent sweat and toil, ten per cent joy.

Break often - not like porcelain, but like waves.

If there's one thing I've discovered, it's that stifling yourself will only lead to more misery. [...] I polluted all other happiness because I was afraid to let myself create and change. You have to have courage. Real courage to explore, to fail, and to pick yourself back up again.

Siobhan also says that if you close your mouth and breathe out loudly through your nose it can mean that you are relaxed, or that you are bored, or that you are angry and it all depends on how much air comes out of your nose and how fast and what shape your mouth is when you do it and how you are sitting and what you just said before and hundreds of other things which are too complicated to work out in a few seconds.

Knowledge can be like the skin on the surface of the water in a pond, or it can go all the way down to the mud. It can be the tiny tip of the iceberg or the whole hundred percent.

Then again, that's how quickly people's perceptions could change. It only took one mistake, one stupid decision.

This is your reminder to wear your heart on your sleeve more often.

Maybe you haven't noticed, but everyone shares the same brain around here. It's like a mass cult. They've all drunk the Kool-Aid.

If you love someone, really love someone, you stand by them, even when they’ve screwed up. Especially then. You forgive them for their mistakes

Principal Colby puts the tiara on Margo's head. She's surprised by the weight. Obviously the rhinestones wouldn't be diamonds, but Margo had always assumed the tiara would be metal. It isn't. It is plastic.

I don’t want to.. you know, fall for you any worse than I already have.

Be safe, she whispered. Then she closed her eyes and said in a low, broken monotone, "I love you. Kailani Siobhan Fallon

Death is not a reaper, like they say, nor even a friend. It is a dark, fierce water, an inundation.

And Siobhan says people go on holidays to see new things and relax, but it wouldn’t make me relaxed and you can see new things by looking at earth under a microscope or drawing the shape of the solid made when 3 circular rods of equal thickness intersect at right angles. And I think that there are so many things just in one house that it would take years to think about all of them properly. And also, a thing is interesting because of thinking about it and not because of it being new.

Siobhan said that when you are writing a book you have to include some descriptions of things. I said that I could take photographs and put them in the book. But she said the idea of a book was to describe things using words so that people could read them and make a picture in their own head.

Change wasn't something to fear anymore. And even though my picture was hung on the wall, I didn't care so much about how I'd be remembered. So long as I never forgot.

It didn't matter if i was the kind of girl who had sex, or the kind of girl who had her portrait on on a wall in the library, or the kind of girl who who got into the best college, or the kind of girl who didn't tell her parents everything, or the kind of girl who teachers loved. I just needed to be okay with all the kinds of girl I was.

You're the one who made it seem like we were doing something wrong. Maybe you still feel like that, because for whatever reason, you think I'm not good enough for you. But I like you, okay? I've liked you from the very beginning." "It was never going anywhere" "Because you wouldn't let it go anywhere.

It's ridiculous, how people judge talent. Or, rather, don't judge. They just default to what everyone else thinks.

Are these the friends and life i want to have?

I would cry if I could, but instead I just feel my heart rip apart.

I wouldn’t change a thing. I want you. I’ll always want you.

Mrs. Forbes said that hating yellow and brown is just being silly. And Siobhan said that she shouldn't say things like that and everyone has favorite colors. And Siobhan was right. But Mrs. Forbes was a bit right, too. Because it is sort of being silly. But in life you have to take lots of decisions and if you don't take decisions you would never do anything because you would spend all your time choosing between things you could do. So it is good to have a reason why you hate some things and you like others. It is like being in a restaurant like when Father takes me out to a Berni Inn sometimes and you look at the menu and you have to choose what you are going to have. But you don't know if you are going to like something because you haven't tasted it yet, so you have favorite foods and you choose these, and you have foods you dno't like and you don't choose these, and then it is simple.

It's embarrassing, how much effort it took for me to wear something that looks exactly like a blank piece of paper.

All of her aunts said that Bridget looked exactly like her mother as a teenager. Staring at her, Bridget realised she had no memories of her mother being thin.

She pushes all the pain out of her arms, kicks the hurt free from her legs. She swims her broken heart out.

No one was more stunned by the choice than her mother, who claimed to the saleswoman that she hadn't seen Danielle that dressed up since her first Communion.

has it ever occurred to you that where there is no anger, there is also no love?

I was wrong last night. Kyler isn’t just trouble. He’s an apocalypse-level disaster waiting to happen. I need to find some fallout shelter to hide in. And quick.

Survival of the generic.

He remembers the times they’d walk toward him in the playground with that same look on their faces, but double in number with Siobhan and Tara. “It’s the four horsewomen of the apocalypse,” Jimmy Hailler would say. “They’re going to make us do something we don’t want to do.” “We’re not going to give in,” Tom would say. But they did. Always.

I guess it takes one to know one, and two can play that game.

I fell in love with her suddenly, deeply, in the most all-consuming way.

Are you in any pain? (Ariana Skyee) Only my heart. (Cal Remus)

Why, in a world where there is love, would you ever choose hate?

He knows I’ve seen something in him. Something I recognize, only because it exists in me too.

It annoys her how easily Dana can forget the past. But it also makes Margo jealous. Because she can't.

From the floor, I see the tops of the Philadelphia skyline out of her window. Staring at it, I realize that the night sky isn't really black, which is the way I've always thought of it. It's actually a dark shade of blue, the darkest possible.

He's a mass of contradictions. Unfortunately, that only seems to enhance his appeal. I’m one sick bitch, that’s for sure.

Stop talking like we are done for. Like this is the end. We are getting out of here. I don’t know how, but this is not how our story ends.

I forever you,” he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose, and I think my heart might fly out of my chest.

You went back in time,” he repeated, “and you expect his cell phone to work?” “Well, no, I just, I mean, I came back and he hasn’t! Shouldn’t he have?” Morrison, very steadily, said, “Were you together?” “No! I just said he went to fight the Morrigan!” “I see.” There was a pause. “The man is seventy-four years old, Joanie. He can take care of himself. If you were,” a great and patient pause filled the line before he went on, “time traveling. If you were time traveling and got separated, then I can’t think of any reason he would necessarily come back to the present at the same time you did.” “Except I was the focal point, it was my fault, it --!” “Joanne. Siobhan. Siobhan Grainne MacNamarra Walkingstick.” I didn’t think anybody had ever said my name like that before. I gulped down a hysterical sob and whispered, “Yeah?” Morrison, with gentle emphasis, said, “I love you. Now pull yourself together and go find the bad guy,” and hung up.

I don’t think I’d feel any more violated if he’d stripped me bare. I might as well have lain down before him openly exposing all my flaws and my fears, inviting him to psychoanalyze me.

I’m not much of a liar. A hoarder, a hider: most definitely, yes, and sometimes I’m dishonest by default because I find it difficult to share that innermost part of myself with others. But never a conscious liar. I don’t think I have it within me to deliberately mislead anyone.

But, I didn't have a clue what it was really like, how terribly cruel and mean and judgmental people could be

My mind wanders and I drift off into La-La Land. I dream about Thalassic City. About opportunity. And second chances. About actually living.

A loud peel of laughter travels up my throat. Something out of the ordinary has finally happened, and it sends a spark of electricity directly to the dull lump in my chest.

He’s a lovely guy, but there’s no spark between us whatsoever. It just goes to show, that even with all their fancy assessment tools, the government can’t legislate for chemistry.

But I can’t force myself to remember my hidden past or purposefully unravel the mystery of my heart. Secrets are usually buried for a reason.

I’m not going to be caught unawares again,” Haydn argues. “Loving her made me weak. Foolish. And it was totally pointless anyway, because she has only ever loved you.

They are far from perfect, but they’re my far from perfect.

Forcing girls to be ashamed for doing the things that come natural to them — it's a ridiculous double standard, and we should all, frankly, tell anyone who judges us to screw off.

It's as if our girls don't understand that they can be recognized for other things--their goals, their brains. Not just their bodies.

I know I need to face the facts, and remain strong to extricate myself from this hideous situation, but not yet. I figure I’m owed at least one day to indulge my self-pity. One day to wallow in despair. To give into the soul-crunching heart-stomping pain ripping me to shreds on the inside.

A sharp pain jackknifes my insides, and I can’t stop the sob that rips from my mouth, so primitive and raw it could have come straight from my soul. Loving him the way I do, it physically hurts.

Good, stupid high school boys aren't worth It" She throws an arm over my shoulder. "They're trained to like a certain type of girl, with highlights and pretty nails- the kind who are good at remembering to put on lotion every morning after they shower." She smiles like she's got a dirty secret. "And let's face it..... sluts.

They don't understand that it's hard to be her, to be shopping with them. Like when Dana had pointed out a pair of jeans that Jennifer HAD to try, before darting into another section. Skinny girls can walk by a table full of pants, piled in high stacks, and peel a pair off the top. Easy. Effortless. But not girls like Jennifer.

I could never understand how he always seemed so sure of himself. But now I did. It was because Connor really did know what kind of person he was. He had no regrets because he always shot from his heart.

All the other children at my school are stupid. Except I'm not meant to call them stupid, even though this is what they are. I'm meant to say that they have learning difficulties or that they have special needs. But this is stupid because everyone has learning difficulties because learning to speak French or understanding relativity is difficult and also everyone has special needs, like Father, who has to carry a little packet of artificial sweetening tablets around with him to put in his coffee to stop him from getting fat, or Mrs. Peters, who wears a beige-colored hearing aid, or Siobhan, who has glasses so thick that they give you a headache if you borrow them, and none of these people are Special Needs, even if they have special needs. But Siobhan said we have to use those words because people used to call children like the children at school spaz and crip and mong, which were nasty words. But that is stupid too because sometimes the children from the school down the road see us in the street when we're getting off the bus and they shout, "Special Needs! Special Needs!" But I don't take any notice because I don't listen to what other people say and only sticks and stones can break my bones and I have a Swiss Army knife if they hit me and if I kill them it will be self-defense and I won't go to prison.

A craving to crawl out of my skin hits me like a bullet to the chest. It’s not a new sentiment. It’s an urge I feel at least once every hour. A potent desire to be anyone but myself. To live any life but this one.

Logan owns my heart, and he always will. Whether he is aware or not. Whether he wants it or not. That much I know with absolute conviction.

I know I should look away but I can’t. It’s as if my eyes are superglued to him.

There is so much that needs to be said and too many things that can't ever be said.

I never want to be suspended in the limbo of non-decision again. It's like torturing yourself on purpose.

I look past them to where Will and his friends are sitting, and he catches my eye for a moment and smiles. It’s a weird smile, but it reaches his eyes and I bottle it. And I put it in my ammo pack that’s kept right next to my soul. The one that holds Mia’s scent and Justine’s spirit and Siobhan’s hope and Tara’s passions. Because if I’m going to wake up one morning and not be able to get out of bed, I’m going to need everything I’ve got to fight this bastard of a disease that could be sleeping inside of me.

Will Siobhan go out with me tonight?' And the professor said, very derisively, 'No.' So the boy, thinking himself clever, asked me where I'd like to have dinner, and I said I'd tell him later." Her teeth flashed as she spoke. "After class, I asked the professor why he'd answered 'no' with such certainty. Do you know what he said?" "What?" "He said, 'Because you're having dinner with me.' And that was the night I started dating Professor Brown.

A surge of emotion so strong washed over me like a tsunami wiping everything in its path. Everything I knew before was gone in an instant. And I knew the truth. I knew I loved him dangerously.

I’m terrified to pose this next question, but I need to know. “Do you feel differently about me now?” His face softens. “You’re still you. The same girl I fell in love with. Nothing has changed.

Beauty isn't skin-deep. It's bone-deep. Heart-deep. Soul-deep. Only put to sleep. When we prick our finger on fear. Beauty can't be bought or made. It can only be awoken through laughter, and living, and love. Through being you and being true.

Haydn lets out a low whistle. “You’re a real piece of work.” “It’s okay,” I say, turning to face him. “I got the memo.” He arches a brow. “The one that says you hate my guts. There’s no need to rub it in.

This was why trusting boys was just like drinking and driving. Sure, some people too the risk. One or two beers never feels dangerous at the time. And now everyone who drives and drinks gets into an accident.

Broad shoulders fit snugly under his white shirt, and taut muscles flex in his arm as he grips a tray. He’s not a muscle-bound freak though, thank God. I don’t like that “I have boulders in my biceps” look that a lot of guys seem to favor these days.

He roars laughing as he raises our conjoined hands to his lips. “Have I told you lately that I love you?” “About ten thousand times.” I smile. “Get used to it, Alma Sadie,” he says, tucking an errant strand of hair back into my elegantly coiffed chignon. “Because I’ll never tire of telling you.

Rushing to my side, he palms my face before I can protest. “That’s exactly the issue, though. You don’t know your own mind. It’s full of the secrets of your past, and instead of trying to understand that, you are charging pig-headed down the wrong path.

I’ve told him personal things about myself. Private things I haven’t told others. Things I haven’t yet had the time to confide in Logan. In this moment, I regret it all. In this moment, I know that Haydn and I will never again be friends. In this moment, I want to punch him in the face until he bleeds.

Suddenly, I’m struck by the magnitude of the moment. Hurtling through the air becomes freeing, not terrifying. This time last year, I was suffocating within the confines of my life. I would’ve done anything to escape. That my life has come full circle is as exhilarating as it is scary. Life is for living. For moments like this.

- Obviously, we're hoping that the weather forecasters are wrong, the way they tend to be about ninety-eight percent of the time A few adults chuckled at that lameness. I remember thinking, hoping, that I would never turn into the kind of person who though weather jokes were funny.

Haydn snorts. “Only gullible, lovesick fools spout that mushy crap.” Thank the stars that his tone is teasing, because I can sense Logan’s patience waning. “When you find the right girl, I’m so going to make you eat your words. And I’m going to thoroughly enjoy rubbing your nose in it.

Wracking sobs rip from the innermost chamber of my heart, and I give into them, allowing them to fully take over. Pain lances me on all sides, and I bury my head in my knees, giving in to the heartache. I cry for my parents. For my lost life. For the threat that Addison poses, scaring me in ways it shouldn’t. For a boy I can’t have and shouldn’t want. For the never-ending gut-wrenching hollow ache in my chest and the soul-crushing loneliness I feel.

Jiminy," says the old woman. The mothballs gleam with excitement and she claps her hands. "A wolf!" "Gram!" Siobhan glares across the room. She turns to me. "You'll have to excuse her. She's real old. Wasn't a lot integrating between the species back in her day." I pad over and put out a paw. "Pleased to meet you, madam." She blushes, the varicose veins in her cheeks swelling with blood. Instead of taking my paw to shake, however, she turns it over as if it's a piece of bruised fruit in a market. "Hmmm..." She pores over my palm, nodding like a fortune-teller. Her spectacles slide comically down the bridge of her nose, and when she looks up at me, her face is full of mock astonishment. "Oh, my! What big teeth you have!" She giggles and kicks her slippered feet. "Gram!! The old elf claps her tiny hands. "I always wanted to say that!

We don’t have time for all this personal drama.” My eyes flit between Logan, Haydn, and Ax. “And it’s not fair on the others. The atmosphere is horrendous because of what’s going on between us. And I’m so tired of it. All of it.” I take a step back. “I’m not discussing this anymore, with any of you.” I glare at the three boys. “So sort your shit out, and get your act together. Until then,” I say, turning around. “Leave me the hell alone.

I didn't leave right away. I stayed in the woods. I heard the faint voices of other people. I felt the cold against my skin. But mostly, I was aware of my own heavy breathing, my own thoughts, my own past, present, and future. I realized then, and would have to keep realizing in all the years to come: It didn't matter if I was the kind of girl who had sex, of the kind of girl who had her portrait on a wall in the library, or the kind of girl who got into the best college, or the kind of girl who didn't tell her parents everything, or the kind of girl who teachers loved. I just needed to be okay with all the kinds of girl I was.

You are such a dork,” I exclaim as my fingers flit over the multitude of images and videos of Will Smith. Pinned quotes and sayings are highlighted, and I chuckle when I recognize a few. “Oh. My. God. Did you actually learn these on purpose?” He reels me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Will I be cementing my dork status if I answer affirmatively?” “Absolutely.” I look up into his beautiful eyes. “But I only love you more for it.

I find people confusing. This is for two main reasons. The first main reason is that people do a lot of talking without using any words. Siobhan says that if you raise one eyebrow it can mean lots of different things. It can mean "I want to do sex with you" and it can also mean "I think that what you just said was very stupid." Siobhan also says that if you close your mouth and breathe out loudly through your nose, it can mean that you are relaxed, or that you are bored, or that you are angry, and it all depends on how much air comes out of your nose and how fast and what shape your mouth is when you do it and how you are sitting and what you said just before and hundreds of other things which are too complicated to work out in a few seconds. The second main reason is that people often talk using metaphors. These are examples of metaphors I laughed my socks off. He was the apple of her eye. They had a skeleton in the cupboard. We had a real pig of a day. The dog was stone dead. The word metaphor means carrying something from one place to another, and it comes from the Greek words meta (which means from one place to another) and ferein (which means to carry), and it is when you describe something by using a word for something that it isn't. This means that the word metaphor is a metaphor. I think it should be called a lie because a pig is not like a day and people do not have skeletons in their cupboards. And when I try and make a picture of the phrase in my head it just confuses me because imagining an apple in someone's eye doesn't have anything to do with liking someone a lot and it makes you forget what the person was talking about.

You look exhausted,” Logan says, his eyes raking over me. “Why don’t you try and catch some sleep.” “All your nocturnal activities must be taking a toll,” Haydn mutters not too discreetly under his breath. “The same could be said for you,” I retort, in no mood to ignore his renewed mean streak. “That’s rich coming from you.” “Haydn.” How Logan can manage to convey such potent meaning with one word is sheer talent. And I’m eternally grateful, because it shuts Haydn up.

I didn't think she was that kind of girl." I scampered up onto the ledge and strained to listen. "I overheard two of my students talking about her in homeroom yesterday. I never would have thought Natalie would do something like that. Then again, she's been acting out big-time. Fraternizing with that Spencer girl." I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning. What would have ever made me think that teachers wouldn't hear about this, too? After all, it was all over the school. Another teacher agreed. "Natalie always seemed like such a nice girl." But I am a nice girl, I wanted to scream.

I want to slap him. Curse him. Scream at him. Slap him some more. I want to reach a hand into his chest and squeeze that life-sustaining organ until he collapses from the lack of blood flow and the agonizing pain pummeling his heart until it’s scarcely beating. I want him to hurt so badly that he can barely breathe while strips tear from his heart. I want him to feel everything I’m feeling. To hurt as much as I do. I want all that. But I can’t convince myself it’s the truth. Because I love him too much. I don’t want him to hurt like that.