Stassi Quotes

I’m jealous because I want you all to myself, Stassie, and I’m jealous of any guy you freely give your attention to. I’m even jealous of Henry, for fuck’s sake, and I love that kid.

Stassie, can I hug you? You look like you need one, and I, well, I’ve missed you a lot.” “I’d like that,” she says, so quietly that I hardly hear her.

A smaller woman I recognize from all the pictures steps in front of me and reaches out for a hug. “Hi! I’m Stassie, it’s so nice to meet you. Nate told me all about you, but he has hockey stuff and can’t leave Vancouver. He’s really sad he’s missing out.

Lola is sick of me asking how her best friend is. Every time I even mention Stassie, she tells me LAPD has tons of unsolved crimes I can confess to and to annoy them instead of her.

A volte penso che per i libri bisognerebbe inventare una parola nuova, signor Corso. Una parola che non esiste. E questa parola dovrebbe essere il contrario di cimitero e indicare un luogo dove si conserva la vita, non la morte, e non si mette a giacere niente.

Il meccanismo della comicità è un meccanismo sovversivo. Se un gigante cerca in ogni modo di aprire una porta e non ci riesce, ma subito dopo la porta si apre a un gatto, a un bambino, a un povero vagabondo o a un vecchio senza nessuno sforzo, noi ridiamo. Perché è tutto il contrario di quanto accade nella vita. La comicità è una capriola, un uomo che si rialza dopo un capitombolo o un altro che sta sul punto di cadere ma non cade mai.

Henry had the courtesy to let me know that after six months of living next to Nate and Stassie, he can confirm with absolute certainty that the room is not soundproof.

So if you have that weird quirk that your friends don't understand, don't hide it- make it your thing.

When the first day of autumn rolls around, I don't care how hot it is outside, I bust out the over-the-knee boots, sweater dresses, Halloween decorations, fall-scented candles, and I google the nearest pumpkin patch. I can't get enough of everything fall-related. I want apple cider. I want to spend the whole month of October watching Hocus Pocus on repeat. Haunted hayride? Yes, please.

It’s not for little girls, baby.” I pout and furrow my eyebrows in indignation. “I am not a little girl.” “No, Stassi. You certainly are not.” His voice is low and his eyes flare with a look I’ve never seen before.

He chuckles. “It’s not for little girls, baby.” I pout and furrow my eyebrows in indignation. “I am not a little girl.” “No, Stassi. You certainly are not.” His voice is low and his eyes flare with a look I’ve never seen before.

A me, il mare ha invaso l’infanzia come invade le spiagge della riviera francese, nelle notti di luna. Sono venuto su con questo spettacolo negli occhi. Allaga ancora adesso ogni ricordo e lo riduce a una finestra spalancata. Lo spazio deserto, il limite che non si può misurare. Il mare ti insegna a fissare il vuoto. È la terra che io non so guardare: il profilo morbido delle colline, l’ostacolo di una montagna, l’aria rassicurante delle città. Ho bisogno sempre di avere un orizzonte di fronte, ma questa necessità mi espone a molte insidie. Vorrei poter imparare che il paesaggio più necessario è quello dove si fermano le cose, e si possono toccare. Avere l’appiglio contadino di un oggetto, l’ombra di una presenza intorno. E invece ho nella testa sempre questo gioco di correnti, questa esagerazione di sogni e di incubi, tra l’aiuto degli dei e le orche assassine.” (Fabio Stassi, “La lettrice scomparsa”)

Personally, I'm tired of people feeling ashamed of what they're into just because they're afraid someone might make fun of their love of bedazzled ranch dressing bottles or because they watched Kylie's ten minute pregnancy video more than once.

I think if you asked me, I would do just about anything you wanted at this point.” “So…kiss me,” she commands, tilting her chin upwards and staring into my eyes. “Press your lips to mine and kiss me like you fucking mean it. Like I’m all that matters to you.” “You are all that matters to me, Stassi.” “Prove it.

La letteratura aiuta a cogliere il dramma in maniera più chiara e intellegibile, suscita delle domande, insegna a guardare in un altro modo, a cercare il rovescio di ogni cosa.

Non c’è serietà maggiore di quella di un bambino di fronte a un libro.

I librai sono degli agenti segreti mancati.

Being basic means being true to what you like, without caving to the pressure of being "cool" or "edgy" or whatever basic-haters are into.

What I want is for everyone to embrace whatever they're into, even if society or their boss or some asshole online says it's lame.

Όλοι οι συγγραφείς ξέρουν καλά ότι για να σχηματίσουν έστω μια ιδέα περί αλήθειας πρέπει να διασχίσουν μια ολόκληρη θάλασσα από ψέματα. Αυτό είναι το παράδοξό τους.

Αν τα μυθιστορήματα καταργούν την πραγματικότητα, το κάνουν για να την εκθέσουν, για να καταλάβουμε το πραγματικό πρόσωπο των πραγμάτων.

So be a boss bitch and own everything you do, even if you're listening to Bieber while sitting in a monogrammed robe, watching Sex and The City, googling Meghan Markle until you pass out.

Il popolo è una bestia varia e grossa, ch’ignora le sue forze; e però stassi a pesi e botte di legni e di sassi, guidato da un fanciul che non ha possa, ch’egli potria disfar con una scossa: ma lo teme e lo serve a tutti spassi. Né sa quanto è temuto, ché i bombassi fanno un incanto, che i sensi gli ingrossa. Cosa stupenda! e’ s’appicca e imprigiona con le man proprie, e si dà morte e guerra per un carlin di quanti egli al re dona. Tutto è suo quanto sta fra cielo e terra, ma nol conosce; e, se qualche persona di ciò l’avvisa, e’ l’uccide ed atterra.

A me, il mare ha invaso l’infanzia come invade le spiagge della riviera francese, nelle notti di luna. Sono venuto su con questo spettacolo negli occhi. Allaga ancora adesso ogni ricordo e lo riduce a una finestra spalancata. Lo spazio deserto, il limite che non si può misurare. Il mare ti insegna a fissare il vuoto.

C’è un solo paio di occhiali per ogni lettore e nessuno legge lo stesso libro.

Il solo potere taumaturgico che conosco è quello dell’amicizia. Consigliare un romanzo è un modo di voler bene a una persona.

I’m here for you, however you need me, Stassi.” His voice is barely above a whisper and a part of me, a very depraved part wonders if he’s speaking quietly on purpose.

I’m addicted to you, Stassi. I can’t stay away even though I know it could destroy us. I should be protecting you from this destruction. But I just…I can’t help it.

I think you are beautiful, Stassi. So fucking beautiful sometimes it hurts to look at you and know that you’re you. Someone I can’t ever fucking have.

Press your lips to mine and kiss me like you fucking mean it. Like I’m all that matters to you.” “You are all that matters to me, Stassi.” “Prove it.

I've always felt the pressure to excel at everything I possibly could, even if that pressure is usually self-inflicted. I am a Jedi when it comes to pushing myself to do/be/achieve more. It's nobody's fault but my own. Basically, I'm the drama.

Do you think Taylor puts on "Vigilante Shit" the way I do whenever I feel like someone's done me dirty? It's possible!

Ho avuto sempre un debole per le bancarelle piene di volumi ingialliti che odorano di cantina.

Io sono un mimo, Zarmo, mi assumo il rischio. Tutti noi rischiamo in prima persona, nei nostri numeri. I trapezisti, gli acrobati, i domatori rischiano la loro vita. Noi rischiamo di fallire: di non far ridere o sorprendere o divertire il nostro pubblico. Può venirci un infarto sulla scena, per la paura, ci possiamo dimenticare quello che dobbiamo fare. Ma la nostra emozione è la stessa di chi assiste allo spettacolo. Respiriamo tutti la stessa vita, nello stesso momento.

La nostalgia è sempre un sentimento sleale, si nasconde dietro una scala antincendio e ti sgambetta quando vuole. Sarebbe una spalla perfetta per un comico, se si potessero conoscere in anticipo le sue battute.

51Gamta sukūrė mane ganėtinai žemą, kad nereikėtų prieš nieką klauptis.

Se i romanzi aboliscono la realtà è per smascherarla, per riconoscere il vero delle cose.

A uno scrittore che ti racconta la sua vita non bisogna mai dare credito perché se è un vero scrittore rinnoverà a ogni rigo, fino alla fine dei suoi giorni, il patto di infedeltà con la realtà che ha stipulato all’inizio della sua carriera. Per un romanziere, la sua stessa autobiografia non sarà che un’altra occasione per inventare. Quello che conta, per lui, è solo il senso di fondo. Tutti gli scrittori sanno bene che per arrivare a farsi un’idea della verità devono attraversare un mare di bugie. È il loro paradosso.

A creare l’universo non può che essere stato uno scrittore fallito: l’ha fatto solo per esercitarsi.

Išmokti netekti tobulumo yra pernelyg žiauru, o vaikytis jo visą gyvenimą yra bergždžias puikybės gestas.

Il potere terapeutico dei libri i greci lo conoscevano già migliaia di anni fa e lo praticavano nelle loro biblioteche. I libri depurano la testa e il sangue, allontanano l'attrazione del vuoto e l'umor nero.

How can there truly be such a thing as a fashion faux pas when style is about self-expression and the only person's opinion that matters is yours?

Just to add to it all, Stassie’s dad texted me this morning to wish me luck. He said he’d found a bar showing the game, so he was going to treat himself to a beer—or five—after Julia made him decorate the spare bedroom. He said he’d be bragging to anyone who’d listen, so to make sure I play my best. I sat staring at my phone for ten minutes before I managed to type back a response thanking him for the support. Thankfully, I gave him a reason to brag.

If there’s no game, what’s the point? Why are we all even here?” Mattie groans. “What’s happening?” “It’s my new low-key vibe,” Robbie explains, without really explaining. “The days of drunk Jenga are behind me. Plus, we all know how that ended last time.” “Russ and Aurora fucked, and Henry ran down Maple Avenue naked. Two beautiful things that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t stay true to yourself, Rob. Nate and Stassie, you and Lols… it happened at your parties. Where there were games! Hen and Halle, too! You’re the invisible string, brother. Why are you holding out on the rest of us?” “Does he always talk like this? Like if he just keeps going people will believe what he says? Because I’m almost one hundred percent confident that’s not what invisible string theory is about. Me and Halle listen to the song about it every single work shift.” “Yes,” multiple people say at once. “When he’s really drunk he likes to reimagine things to suit whatever he’s trying to do,” Robbie adds. “You don’t need a drinking game to have a good time, Mattie.

Can’t wait to see your ass in tights, Hawkins.” “I’m more worried about him getting a boner,” Henry adds, concentrating on getting his pamphlet edges right. “He’s like a horny little dog around Stassie.

Oh, shitting fuck, Stassie.

Stassie on top of me has been the star thought of every shower I’ve had for the past week. Ever since she said it out loud, it’s all I’ve thought about. The way her eyes glimmer as she looks at my face, a coy smirk on her lips, I know I’m fucking in for it.

Me moaning with my legs in the air is always the perfect time for JJ and Henry to get home. It’s hard to judge their expressions from my position on the floor, but I hear JJ laughing to himself. “Me next, Stassie.

What the fuck do you say to that exactly? Wine-drunk Stassie is not the person for this conversation because for some reason what’s in my head is not what comes out of my mouth.

It doesn’t matter what you call me, Stassie. Titles don’t matter because I get you regardless. I know I’m a bit full-on and I joke, but I want you to know I’ve never done this before, either. I’ve never had a girlfriend and I’ve never committed to anyone. Three months doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’m a guy who knows when he’s sure. I’m sure about you.” “I’m sure about you, too.

Stassie calls me beautiful all the time, even when I’ve just woken up. At first, I was a bit taken aback. I’m not sure what it was in the beginning; I sort of had it ingrained in my head I was supposed to be the one complimenting her, and trust me I do, but it turns out I like hearing it. It’s not just beautiful; she calls me kind and smart, among so many other things. Hearing her ramble about how much she likes me for me, how special I am to her, is beyond what I ever thought I should expect in a relationship. But hearing her call hot while she’s got me tied up and my hard dick is rubbing between her legs is a whole other level of I fucking love my girlfriend.

I sit in that sorrow, I digest it, I really cry it out… and then it’s over. I guess crying is my path to closure. It’s my way of feeling, processing, acknowledging, and then moving on all at once. It takes so much out of a person to have a good hard cry that of course you’re not going to want to do it again. Once it’s done, it’s done. So the next time you find yourself at rock bottom, don’t try to be all tough and stoic, because you’re only prolonging the inevitable. Just feel it, digest it, and cry it the eff out.

I want to be a basic bitch who lives in a way that contributes to the world in a positive way. I still love trash TV and monogrammed everything.

That’s the thing about rock bottom—in a weird way it makes you less bitter. It makes you want to understand what went wrong so it won’t happen again.

Life is too short to care what someone else thinks about what you think is cool, especially when it comes to something as personal as wine.

We still say that phrase, but no one actually lives it. In our culture we’re just expected to do all these things on our own and not complain.

If you are jealous of something that someone else has, then imagine you would have to switch lives completely with that person in order to have that one thing. I’m talking about switching partners, switching children, switching bodies, switching EVERYTHING. There’s no point in being jealous of something that happens for someone unless you’re perfectly happy to switch your entire life with theirs.

Back in the day, people could say, “It takes a village to raise a child,” and that would be true. Relatives all lived close by so you could hand the baby off to a grandparent or aunt or third cousin so you could work or run to the store, but now it’s not like that at all.

BEING WITH STASSIE COMPLETELY SOBER might be my new favorite thing. I love talking to her. It sounds obvious, and it is, but I love listening to her dive headfirst into a story. The way she has to hold back a laugh when she tells me something Lo said, or the sad smile she has when talking about Seattle. Her Brady impression with a terrible Russian accent still makes me cackle laughing, even after I’ve heard it twenty times.