Trenton Quotes

You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn't depend on blood. Nor is it exclusive of friendship. Family members can be your best friends, you know. And best friends, whether or not they are related to you, can be your family.

May your adventures bring you closer together, even as they take you far away from home.

Rules and school are tools for fools! I don't give two mules for rules.

Oh, here’s a clever one. Do you remember this question from the first test? It reads, ‘What’s wrong with this statement?’ And do you know what Constance wrote in reply? She wrote, ‘What’s wrong with you?

Is this what family is like: the feeling that everyone’s connected, that with one piece missing, the whole thing’s broken?

Lula had Eminem cranked up. He was rapping about trailer park girls and how they go round the outside, and I was wondering what the heck that meant. I'm a white girl from Trenton. I don't know these things. I need a rap cheat sheet.

Every great thinker keeps a journal, you know.

And please don't call me that." I didn't call you 'that', I called you George Washington.

The missing aren't missing, they're only departed, All minds keep all thoughts - so like gold - closely guarded,

Children are capable of such open rudeness.

One problem with being a leader, is that even among your friends you are alone, for it is you -- and you alone -- to whom the others look for final guidance.

Now listen, we need to be quiet as mice. No, quieter than that. As quiet as . . . as . . .” “Dead mice?” Reynie suggested. “Perfect,” said Kate with an approving nod. “As quiet as dead mice.

Poor Kate,” said Constance, “she’s lost her marbles.

Remember, children. For every exit, there is also an entrance. ~ Milligan, The Mysterious Benedict Society

Grow the lawn and mow the lawn always keep the TV on, brush your teeth and kill the germs, poison apples, poison worms.

I stumbled into the living room, and Thomas handed me a bottle of whiskey. They all had some in a glass "You told them?" I asked Trenton, my voice broken. Trenton nodded. I collapsed to my knees, and my brothers surrounded me, placing their hands on my head and shoulders for support.

Why, then, do you think the white player might have done it?” Reynie considered. He imagined himself moving out his knight only to bring it right back to where it started. Why would he ever do such a thing? At last he said, “Perhaps because he doubted himself.

What is life without laughter?

Daddy, will you take me to the mill, again?

Reynie's fce fell. 'It's not funny, Kate.' For a moment - a fleeting moment - Kate looked desperately sad. 'Well, of course it's not funny, Reynie Muldoon. But what do you want me to do? Cry?

There were people thrice her size on the Trenton platform and she looked admiringly at one of them, a woman in a very short skirt. She thought nothing of slender legs shown off in miniskirts--it was safe and easy, after all, to display legs of which the world approved--but the fat woman's act was about the quiet conviction that one shared only with oneself, a sense of rightness that others failed to see.

The gym is always open, except when it's closed.

Isobel moved farther into the kitchen, not knowing whether to be relieved that her mother hadn't had an atomic meltdown, or mortified that she'd taken it upon herself to play head chef with the nearest thing Trenton High had to a Dark Lord.

[Stephanie] That's not the point. I can't just let monkeys loose in Trenton. [Lula] Why not? There's all kinds of crazy shit loose in Trenton.

Remember the White Knight.

I said no strippers," I said, watching dumbfounded as Trenton danced around the room to Britney Spears.

Was it worse for him, Reynie wondered, to have felt loved and then rejected? Or was it worse to have always felt alone?

You know what I hate?” I asked. Trenton had desperation in his eyes. “Me. I know. I just . . . I’m a selfish, insecure idiot.” “Yes.

She announced her age right away, for children consider their ages every bit as important as their names.

You've read half the books in this house? This whole house?" "Well, approximately half." Sticky said. "To be more accurate, I suppose I've read more like" - his eyes went up as he calculated - "three sevenths? Yes, three sevenths." "Only three sevenths?" said Kate, pretending to look disappointed. "And here I was prepared to be impressed.

He’ll make it beautiful, won’t you?” I asked.Trenton turned on the machine, and then looked at me with a soft expression. “You’re already beautiful.

The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And some have been known to fall in it. In tennis it's nothing, but it can be received, And sometimes a person may win it. Though not seen or heard it may be perceived, Like princes or bees it's in clover. The answer to this riddle has a hole in the middle, And without it one cannot start over.

No, I like it ... a lot ... but that's a helluva tattoo for a virgin." He popped the pen back in, freeing up his hand to move the mouse. I smirked. "If I'm going to lose it, I want to be broken in right." The pen fell from Trenton's mount to the floor.

I hope you haven't given up on the S.Q.'s of the world, Reynie. As you see, there are a great many sheep in wolves' clothing. If not for S.Q.'s good nature, we'd never have escaped.

She was a thin woman in a mustard-yellow suit, with a yellowish complexion, short-cropped rusty red hair, and a stiff posture. She reminded Reynie of a giant walking pencil.

Everything is as it should be.

For every exit, there is also an entrance.

'Is that really the best you can say? An average-looking boy? An awful lot of boys are average-looking, S.Q.!' And poor S.Q., he just kept arguing that 'this boy was especially average-looking.' " ~ Kate Wetherall, The Mysterious Benedict Society

Milligan! Come and tell us why you're so dreadfully glum!" ~ Constance, The Mysterious Benedict Society

You’re really going to cut me out of your life because of one fucking kiss?” “Was that all it was?” I asked. Trenton fell quiet. “That’s what I thought.” I hit End again.

So how you’re gonna play this?” Trenton asked. “Divide and conquer.” “Divide what?” “His head from the rest of his body.” Trenton nodded quickly. “Good plan.

I know you don’t believe me, but I really have loved you since we were kids,” he said quietly. “And now I get to love you ’til we’re old.” My stomach fluttered. No one else had ever loved me as much as he did. “Promise?” Trenton smiled with tired eyes. “Yes. And then I’ll promise you again after I dance around in a thong to Britney Spears.

I can't say for sure, because I have no experience, but -- well, is this what family is like? The feeling that everyone's connected, that with one piece missing the whole thing's broken?

You made it complicated! You can’t complain now!” I said. “What the fuck does it matter if I kissed you?” “Because! I have! A boyfriend!” I yelled into the phone. “Will he even notice? You haven’t spoken to him in a week!” “That’s none of your business!” “Yes, it is! You’re my business!” “Fuck off!” “You fuck off!” he yelled back. We were both quiet for a while, and then Trenton finally spoke. “I’m coming over after I get off work.

Hey," Trenton said, breathless and sweaty. He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face. "Did you lose a bet?" I asked. "As a matter of fact, I did." Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe. I slapped Trenton's ass. "You look hot, bro." "Thanks," he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd.

You know what i like about buttons? They're very small things that hold bigger things together. Awfully important, buttons - little but strong.

No one seems to realize how much we are driven by FEAR, the essential component of human personality. Everything else - from ambition to love to despair - derives in some way from this single powerful emotion.

I'm an orphan!" Constance cried gleefully. "I'm an orphan!" ~ The Prisoner's Dilemma

Books had been her means of escape; now they would be her refuge.

They stared out their window at night enough to know where the darkest shadows lay, and it was to the darkest shadows they kept.

The twins, Taylor and Tyler, threw confetti in my face, music began to blare, and then I saw the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life: Trenton in a man thong, covered in about ten pounds of body glitter. He had on a cheap, yellow wig, and Cami was laughing her head off, cheering him on.

Good grief! They're going to call us inside soon, and Sticky hasn't even met Madge yet!" "Who's Madge?" Sticky asked. "Her Majesty the Queen!

Au contraire..." "What?" Constance demanded. Curtain blinked. ~ The Perilous Journey

Or your arms,” Trenton added. “Because if you ever talk to her with anything less than a respectful tone again, I will rip those fuckers off and beat you with ’em. Do we understand each other?

Speaking of tired, I’m exhausted,” I breathed. “I’m gonna head to bed, Baby.” I looked to everyone else. “Good night, guys.” “Night, Sis,” Jim said. Travis’ brothers all bid me goodnight, and I headed up the stairs. “I’m gonna turn in, too,” I heard Travis say. “I bet you are,” Trenton teased. “Lucky bastard,” Tyler grumbled. “Hey. We’re not going to talk about your sister like that,” Jim warned.

If we're just trying to be accurate, then how about 'The Doomed to Fail Bunch'?" said Constance. "Honestly! We can't even name ourselves.

Don't thank me,' Mr. Curtain called as the door slid closed. 'Impress me!

Kate seemed to have doubled in size. She had drawn back her broad shoulders and set her jaw, and something in the stance called to mind the contained ferocity of a lioness. But it was the fierceness in Kate's bright blue eyes that had the most striking effect. The sort of look that made you thankful she wasn't your enemy. "It's not going to be over," Kate said firmly "Until we say so.

You are the smartest children i know. You just don't beleive it.

Did the men steal the papers?" Reynie asked, fearing her response. No, because they are fools," Sophie said bitterly. "They demanded to see the papers, and when I did not answer fast enough -- they were very frightening, you see -- they hurt me so that I was not awake. . . . When I opened my eyes they were still trying to find the papers. They did not understand how we organize the library, you see. They were angry and creating a bad mess. . . . The police were coming and the men decided they must leave. I shouted at them as they left: 'It is a free and public library! All you had to do was ask!

I've only just arrived, Kate. It may surprise you to learn that you were my top priority.

You’re right, because we’re just friends.” “Christ, Cami, I know. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in my face.” My eyes widened. “Wow. Rubbing it in your face? Okay.” Trenton laughed, frustrated. “How can you not know? Everyone else in the entire fucking world knows but you!” “I know. I’m just trying to keep things simple.” Trenton took a step toward me. “This isn’t simple. Not even close.

Listen, just do what you think is right, and we'll support it." ~ Sticky Washington, The Prisoner's Dilemma

It just supports my personal opinion that he's a wacko

So what's your team called?" asked Kate, twisting her legs into a pretzel-like configuration, "We're called the Winmates because we're inmates who win." Kate looked back and forth at Reynie and Constance, searching their expression for signs of delight. "You gave yourselves a name?" asked Constance. Now it was Kate's turn to be baffled. "You didn't? How can you have a team without a name?

At this, Constance sat down on a rock and covered her face. She seemed smaller than ever now - so small the harbor breeze might catch her up like a scrap of paper and carry her away, carry her into nowhere.

So began one of the fiercest and strangest battles ever fought, a battle that involved all manner of business supplies, elegant clothing and accessories, and no shortage of trickery and taunts.

In other words, you are our last possible hope. You are our only hope.

Something about this made Reynie uneasy. Had he done so badly? Was this meant to test his courage? He did as he was told, closing his eyes and bracing himself as best he could. "Why are you flinching?" the pencil woman asked. "I don't know. I thought maybe you were going to slap me." "Don't be ridiculous. I could slap you perfectly well with your eyes open. I'm only going to blindfold you.

I get the urge to feel it, too, so when she takes her hand away, I turn her toward me and I feel the edges of New Jersey. I kiss Hoboken and Atlantic City. I kiss Newark and Trenton. I kiss Camden, and then I follow the road west, over the Walt Whitman Bridge into Pennsylvania. And I kiss home.

It's not going to be over until we say so.

I know. I’m just trying to keep things simple.” Trenton took a step toward me. “This isn’t simple. Not even close.” “It is simple. Black and white. Cut and dry.” Trenton grabbed me by the shoulders and planted a kiss on my mouth. Sheer shock made my lips hard and unforgiving, but then they melted against his, along with the rest of my body. I relaxed, but my breathing picked up, and my heart beat so loud I was sure Trenton could hear it. His tongue slipped between my lips, and his hands slid down my arms to my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. He pulled my hips against his as he kissed me, and then sucked my bottom lip when he pulled away. “Now it’s complicated.” He grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him.

…I see that something’s are hard to do, but that you can’t live with yourself if you don’t do them. I see that the best way to help myself is to help the people I care about. The rest will sort itself out. It has to, right?

I want love and I won't settle for less

There are empty rooms, and then there are rooms that feel crowded, corner to corner, with absence.

I've never been in this part of Trenton before. I don't feel comfortable driving around buildings that haven't got gang slogans sprayed on them. Look at this place. No boarded-up windows. No garbage in the gutter. No brothers selling goods on the street. Don't know how people can live like this.

He said that he doesn’t believe we become different people as we age. No, he says he believes that we become more people. We’re still the kids we were, but we’re also the people who’ve lived all the different ages since that time.

Even if he did explain it, no one would believe him because no one would understand him. That's the downside to being a genius - just because you understand something doesn't mean anyone else will.

And I realize there's no shortage of wickedness in the world," said Mr. Benedict, with a significant look at Reynie, "but is it not heartening to know that so many are willing to fight for the good?

Tastykakes are just another of the many advantages of living in Jersey. They’re made in Philly and shipped to Trenton in all their fresh squishiness. I read once that 439,000 Butterscotch Krimpets are baked every day. And not a heck of a lot of them find their way to New Hampshire. All that snow and scenery and what good does it do you without Tastykakes?

There’s a difference between remembering and thinking,

No. Listen. I get off at nine. I'm gonna pick you up at ten. If you aren't dressed and ready, and I mean showered and shaved ready, I'm going to call a bunch of people and tell them you're having a party at your house with six free kegs and hookers". "Damn it Trenton, don't." "You know I will. Last warning. Ten o'clock, or by eleven you'll have guests. Ugly ones".

No sooner had he thought this than he realized what was anchoring his happiness. It was purpose. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew the way he thought things should be, and Mr. Harinton was proving that other people--even adults--could feel the same way. Nicholas had something to aim for now. He might not know what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he knew with absolute certainty how he wanted to be.

Diesel rocked back on his heels and grinned at the monkey. “Carl?” “Eep!” The monkey stood, squinted at Diesel, and gave him the finger. “Looks like you know each other,” I said. “Our paths crossed in Trenton,” Diesel said. “How did he get here?” “Monkey Rescue,” Glo told him. “He was abandoned.” “Figures,” Diesel said. The monkey gave him the finger again. “Does he do that all the time?” I asked Diesel. “Not all the time.” “I got him by mistake,” Glo said. “And now we don’t know what to do with him.” “You could turn him loose and let him go play in traffic.” Diesel said. - Lizzy, Shirley, Diesel, and Carl, pages 132-134.

In the candle's flickering light, the library's thousands of books emerged from the shadows, and for a moment Nicholas could not help admiring them again. During free time he had almost never looked up from the pages he was reading, but now he saw the books anew, from without rather than from within, and was reminded of how beautiful they were simply as objects. The geometrical wonder of them all, each book on its own and all the books together, row upon row, the infinite patterns and possibilities they presented. They were truly lovely.

Oh dear,"cried Rhonda just then, for Mr. Benedict, awash in strong emotion, has gone to sleep.with a sudden loud snore he toppled forward into the attentive arms of Rhonda and Number Two, who eased him to the floor. "What's wrong with him?" Constance asked. "He has narcolepsy," said Kate. "He steals a lot?" "That's kleptomania," Sticky said. "Mr. Benedict sleeps a lot.

Rachel,” came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. “Don’t touch Trenton,” he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, “or I’m going to have to come down there…and smack you around.

Nicholas Benedict did have an exceptional gift for knowing things (more exceptional, in fact, than most adults would have thought possible), and yet not even he could know that this next chapter was to be the most unusual-and most important-of his entire childhood. Indeed, the strange days that lay ahead would change him forever, though for now they had less substance than the mist through which he ran.

It was occurring to Reuben that people, especially adults, are rather quick to dismiss small mysteries, to assume that they have simply misunderstood or failed to observe something, and to go on about their business.

Would you ever have thought I might choose a lie for the sake of my own happiness? The Whisperer's version of happiness is an illusion -- it doesn't take away your fears, it only lies about them, makes you temporarily believe you don't have them. And I know it's a lie, but what a powerful one! Maybe I'm not who I always thought myself to be. Maybe I'm the sort of person who will do anything to hear what I want to believe...

Mr. Benedict: "After I woke up and composed myself, however, I realized the flowers must certainly be yours, Constance, to do with as you please. At any rate -- " Mr.Benedict broke off, for just then Constance jumped to her feet, snatched the bouquet from his desk, and hurled it into the wastebasket with all the force she could muster -- so hard that flower petals flew up out of the wastebasket like tiny pink butterflies. Then placing her hands against the wall to steady herself, she stomped one foot repeatedly into the wastebasket as if trying to put out a fire. "I see we are of the same opinion," said Mr. Benedict as Constance returned to her seat, and the others congratulated her on her judgment.

Somhow those Ten Men -- at the time they were called Recruiters, of course -- discovered that Constance had been at the library. Most likely one of their informants saw her come out, because it was on that very day that the brutes showed up and threatened the librarians. Who told them nothing, incidentally.' 'The same thing happened in Holland,' Kate reflected. 'You'd think these guys would learn their lesson -- librarians know how to keep quiet.' 'It helps to ask politely,' said Mr. Benedict

But you have said it too often, Mr. Benedict!" said Mrs. Perumal in an imperious tone that was quite out of character. "And if you continue in this vein, I'm afraid we'll be compelled to cut our visit short. Surely there are other establishments that would host an entire troup of guests - indefinitely and without reward - and not feel obliged to apologize for it!

Remember the white knight." Though it seemed so long ago, he well remembered their conversation about the chess problem. The white knight had made a move, changed his mind, and started over. "And do you believe this was a good move?" Mr. Benedict had asked. "No, sir," Reynie had answered. "Why, then, do you think he made it?" And Reynie had replied, "Perhaps because he doubted himself.

Mr. Harinton was real. There were adults in the world who would actually make sacrifices for others - not just for their own families but for anyone who needed help. Nicholas had always had the impression that families looked after one another, and he had come to understand that, on rare ocassions, children would do the same... But this was different. What Mr. Harinton was doing certainly helped Nicolas - but it also simply felt right to Nicholas. It made him want to be exactly like Mr. Harinton himself.

If Nicholas Benedict truly had been able to see the future, his own would have startled him to sleep at once, for he would have seen that he was destined to do things far greater than he ever could have imagined – that wonderful and amazing people would one day be drawn to him like metal to a magnet; that together with Nicholas they would form a most unusual kind of family; and that together, during one of the world’s darkest, most dangerous hours, they would change the course of history… For now he was simply a little boy on a cot, trying to fight off sleep as he had done countless times before…

And yet, in certain ways, the Institute did remind them of other schools: Rote memorization of lessons was discouraged but required; class participation was encouraged but rarely permitted; and although quizzes were given every day, in every class, there was always at least one student who groaned, another who acted surprised, and another who begged the teacher, in vain, not to give it.

You were brave to do what you did," he said slowly. "And I know you did it out of live for our friends. But if you ever do something like this again, I can promise you that Ten Men and Executives are going to be the least of your worries- do you understand?" His espression was very severe, his jaw was set, and his words were clipped and terse as if spoken with much suppressed anger. Kate burst out laughing. "Milligan," she said, "I'll bet you scare the wits out of bad guys, but as a dad you don't scare anyone very much." "She's right." Constance said. "I can tell you aren't really angry." Milligan frowned and looked at Reynie, but Reynie averted his eyes to avoid disappointing him- for he, too, had been unfazed by Milligan's stern admonition. Only Sticky, furiously polishing his spectacles in the back seat, showed the effect Milligan had hoped for. But Sticky was easily unnerved and could hardly be used as a measure. "Well," Milligan said, his face relaxing. "At least I tried." "... Speaking of which, the boys weren't actually touching the breifcases in the trunk, I hope?" Wondering how Milligan knew, Kate stuck her head out the office door and gave Reynie and Sticky a warning look. They nodded and tried to close the trunk as quietly as possible. "They aren't now anyway." "Good," Milligan said, picking up his duffel bag. "I'd hate to have to speak sternly to them again. It embarasses me to be so ineffective.

You must understand something, George. The world's leaders create catastrophes and resolve them-- all at their own whimsy-- every single day. It is how the world runs. Lacking anything else to believe in, common people need to believe in their leaders' abilities to save them. It's true! Their emotional well-being-- and yes, their fate-- depends on the intelligence and skill of those who manipulate the days' disasters. And it should go without saying that the one who succeeds in taking the reins of leadership-- by whatever means-- is the most intelligent and skillful, and therefore most qualified to lead.

Out from behind the desk where he’d been sitting, hidden by the piles of books, appeared a bespectacled, green-eyed man in a green plaid suit. His thick white hair was shaggy and mussed, his nose was rather large and lumpy like a vegetable, and although it was clear he had recently shaved, he appeared to have done so without benefit of a mirror, for here and there upon his neck and chin were nicks from a razor, and occasional white whiskers that he’d missed altogether. This was Mr. Benedict.