Veronica Mars Quotes

Lynn, she saved half our faction from this stuff," says Marlene, tapping the bandage on her arm from where the Dauntless traitors shot her. "Well, half of half of our faction." "In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar," Lynn says.

There weren’t many people in this world who would let you be vulnerable and still believe you were strong.

It's a noir world. Unfair things happen.

And for about the millionth time in her life she felt an overwhelming gratitude for her best friend. Because she knew he wouldn't mention this afterward; she knew he wouldn't take it as a sign that she was losing her nerve or was in too deep. There weren't many people in this world who would let you be vulnerable and still believe you were strong.

Huh. Veronica Mars, speechless. I'll have to write this one in my feelings journal.

I asked for a pony. And year after year I'm disappointed.

A pair of freshmen rushed by our door talking about who would make a better Gallagher Girl: Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Veronica Mars (a debate made much more interesting by the fact it was taking place in Farsi).

The twin pillars of outrage journalism: slut shaming and victim blaming.

I’m beginning to view democracy as the Siri of political systems. So much better in theory.

It’s hard to look the people you love in the face when they’ve seen you fuck up everything you touch. Sometimes, it’s easier to rebuild your life if you’re with someone who’s been as low as you’ve been.

Conan Doyle deluded a century of readers into thinking we're all deductive geniuses.

Not that I like having my direst preconceptions about humanity confirmed or anything. But I was right.

But sometimes the lies we let ourselves believe are for our own good.

The hazard of living in a place where you had so much history--so much pain and so much rage and so much love--was that every item could turn on you in a flash.

Salinger, Plath, Toole, the literature of choice for the brooding outcast.

Thank goodness for the U.S. Navy. I can at least put off telling Logan. The last thing I need is for my boyfriend to pick a fight with an international crime syndicate.

How hard do you think it'd be to hack into the database of a major research university?" Mac hesitated. "Since you're asking me on a cell phone, in front of God and the NSA- impossible.

Well, half of half our faction.' 'In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,' Lynn says.

Who’s a big fierce monster dog? Who’s a bloodthirsty hound from Hell? It’s you. Yes it is.

I also drink Scotch. But I'm not picky. I'll take the victory Scotch, or the Scotch of defeat. Or the rotgut swill.

Their mutual misanthropy had sealed the deal.

She already knew that he’d decided to leave—knew before he opened his mouth to speak. But for one last minute, she could pretend that he was hers to keep. For one last minute, she held him, and let him hold her.

For one ridiculous moment she considered changing into something sexier—at least from the waist up, as that was all he’d see on his camera—but decided not to bother. Logan had fallen in love with her in striped T-shirts and jeans. There was no need to mess with a winning formula.

She didn't want to be in their club. Didn't want to learn how to be apart from the one person she longed to see every day.

In Neptune, the past was always grabbing at your ankles, trying to pull you back.

Sometimes lightning struck twice; sometimes, one person got more than their share of suffering.

Ah, the twin pillars of outrage journalism: slut shaming and victim blaming.

In Vegas, the veneer of glamor was bright but thin. You didn't have to look that hard to see the darker realities that lurked beneath the surface.

El amor es como las olas en el mar, gentil y bueno a veces, duro y terrible en otras, pero que era infinito y más fuerte que el cielo y la tierra y todo entre medio

There weren't many people in this world who would let you be vulnerable and still believe you were strong.

normal’s the watchword

When is the answer ever less cheese?

Honestly I’m glad. Cases where stupid people do stupid things are really more my forte. Like this guy.” He picked up a folder from the mess on his desk. “He updated his Facebook account from inside a house he was robbing. Classic Cliff McCormack material. I’ll leave the murderers to someone who knows what he’s doing.

What do you think? More cheese? Less cheese? Different cheese?” Keith held up a measuring cup of shredded mozzarella and looked inquiringly at Veronica across the kitchen island. She was slicing tomatoes but paused mid chop to look up with one raised brow. “When is the answer ever less cheese?” “Fair point.” He dumped the entire cup into the mixing bowl and started to stir.

Was it tacky to get a cake during a hostage crisis? What was the protocol? She pictured chocolate frosting with white lettering: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOPE YOUR DAUGHTER ISN’T DEAD. But this year was her fiftieth, a year with a zero. Veronica had to do something. So on her way to the condo she’d swung by a bakery and picked up a small German chocolate cake. It was her mom’s favorite—or at least it had been, a decade ago.

Bursting into flame would definitely blow my cover.

Nothing was worthless. Not if you knew who needed it. Not if you knew how to salvage it.

This is why you shouldn’t hire your friends. It’s all nice and professional until the insubordination starts. She sighed.

You couldn't think of a single thing to do for her? Not with all your supposed ingenuity, your willingness to see the rules as profoundly optional?

Chatty, defensive, observant. My new favorite witness.

You always have a choice," she spat. "You fight until you see you're beaten, and then you keep on fighting.

Anyone who'd spent a childhood waiting for the other foot—or the other fist—to fall knew how to sense danger.

Veronica: Like, why settle for something not good just cause it's something?

Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know, since you left the actual investigating for me to do. Well, buckle up, my friend, because I’m about to hand you actual clues to an actual crime, wrapped in a bow.

have I heard that grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate; think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.’” Veronica wasn’t sure which play the quote was from, but she knew exactly what it meant: You get tough. You get even. You get tough. Had Mars Investigations been the sort of outfit that bothered to draft a list of its “Core Values,” that would’ve been a top fiver.

I'm with Logan, and I love him more than I thought I could love a man, and we have the opportunity to to be happy in spite of everything and I can't throw all that away for something more convenient.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t get enough of him. Or that he was the best man I’d ever known. (I’d thought that was my dad, but now it was the dad from my favorite 2000s teen drama, Veronica Mars.) Or that he was my favorite person. (That was Shadi.) Or because he made me laugh so hard I wept. (He laughed easily, but rarely joked.) Or that when something bad happened, he was the first person I wanted to call. (He wasn’t.) It was that we met the same age my parents had, that the snowball fight and impromptu road trip had felt like fate, that my mother adored him. He fit so perfectly into the love story I’d imagined for myself that I mistook him for the love of my life.

Was it tacky to get a cake during a hostage crisis? What was the protocol? She pictured chocolate frosting with white lettering: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOPE YOUR DAUGHTER ISN’T DEAD. But this year was her fiftieth, a year with a zero. Veronica had to do something. So on her way to the condo she’d swung by a bakery and picked up a small German chocolate cake. It was her mom’s favorite—or at least it had been, a decade ago.-page 218 of The Thousand Dollar Tan Line

Sure, there were a few more duct-taped tears in the vinyl seats, a few new dings in the fiberglass surfboards lining the walls, but the bacon was still crisp and pancakes were available twenty-four hours a day, the way the good Lord intended.

It was Saturday evening and we were in the throes of a Veronica Mars marathon (season two DVD). I decided that when I left “Ms. Townsend, Ice Princess” behind, the New Sadie was going to be like Veronica Mars. She was plucky, cute as a button and she had a smart mouth.

When the officer turned to face her, Veronica blinked.

Thank you' ranks just below 4You ruined my life' and just above 'When I get my hands on you.

Thank you' ranks just below 'You ruined my life' and just above 'When I get my hands on you.

What do you think? More cheese? Less cheese? Different cheese?

Sometimes, if it looks like a murderous duck and quacks like a murderous duck...well, you know.

Congratulations, Veronica. You just ordered your first call girl.

If she's a prostitute, it's not rape so much as shoplifting, right?

She and her mom used to visit him on lunch breaks and, in later years, she did her homework in an empty interrogation room while eavesdropping on the dispatch.

No doubt, what with all that graft and corruption filling your schedule.

Hey, a grown man can miss his mommy without shame.

His image shifted jerkily once, twice. She caught the sound of his voice deconstructed into halting and meaningless syllables. And then the window went dark.

Loose lips sink ships, Mr. Kiss and Tell.

Luego le dijo a Perry que el amor era como las olas en el mar, gentil y bueno a veces, duro y terrible en otras, pero que era infinito y más fuerte que el cielo y la tierra y todo entre medio.

Veronica’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. She held the revolver straight out from her body and breathed slowly, deeply, the hot-metal smell stinging her nostrils. She tried to relax her shoulders.

We certainly strive for reality in terms of asking our audience to believe the motivations, reactions, and behavior of our characters, but do I know when Veronica has time to do her homework? Not really.

When we lose faith in our officers of the law, it harms all of as. It cripples our criminal justice system. It threatens the most vulnerable parts of our community. It allows money and power to subvert justice.

And she’d also found Logan again. Now he was her … what? New-old boyfriend? Lover? Skype buddy? Pen pal with benefits? Whatever his title, his e-mails filled her inbox. Sometimes he sent five a day, short and quipping. Other times he sent longer, more serious ones. She kept her tone light when she replied. That’d always been her MO—a joke, a jab. A way to deflect from what she was really feeling. A way to keep the nonstop ache of missing him from becoming too painful to survive. And honestly, what was there to say that would come close to what she felt? The moments they’d spent together before he’d shipped out on his latest naval tour had been the most peaceful she could remember—even with her anxiety about her dad. It’d been the first time she’d felt complete in a long time. And then, just like that, he was gone again.

Veronica eased the car forward, narrowly missing two girls who stopped in the middle of the street to light each other’s cigarettes. They both held up their middle fingers in perfect unison. Veronica cheerfully flipped them off in return, then took a right toward Neptune’s Warehouse District.

The man whirled, his hands still gripping the animal's skin, his face perfectly illuminated by the fire. He was half in shadow, and the shadow revealed him slowly. His left eye was covered by a black leather patch, and thin white scar raked his brow and the cheekbone below. The carried on, down the length of his neck, into the thick black beard, twisting under his collarbone and around his torso. They marred only the skin, I noted, for the muscles beneath were whole and strong, and the entire impression was one of great vitality and energy, strength unbridled. He looked nothing so much as a fallen god working at a trade. "Hephaestus at the forge," I murmured, recalling my mythology....

Tobias emerges from a door hidden behind a length of white cloth. He flicks the cloth out of the way irritably before coming toward us and sitting beside me at the table in the Gathering Place. “Kang is going to meet with a representative of Jeanine Matthews at seven in the morning,” he says. “A representative?” Zeke says. “She’s not going herself?” “Yeah, and stand out in the open where a bunch of angry people with guns can take aim?” Uriah smirks a little. “I’d like to see her try. No, really, I would.” “Is Kang the Brilliant taking a Dauntless escort, at least?” Lynn says. “Yes,” Tobias says. “Some of the older members volunteered. Bud said he would keep his ears open and report back.” I frown at him. How does he know all this information? And why, after two years of avoiding becoming a Dauntless leader at all costs, is he suddenly acting like one? “So I guess the real question is,” says Zeke, folding his hands on the table, “if you were Erudite, what would you say at this meeting?” They all look at me. Expectantly. “What?” I say. “You’re Divergent,” Zeke replies. “So is Tobias.” “Yeah, but he doesn’t have aptitude for Erudite.” “And how do you know I do?” Zeke lifts his shoulder. “Seems likely. Doesn’t it seem likely?” Uriah and Lynn nod. Tobias’s mouth twitches, as if in a smile, but if that’s what it is, he suppresses it. I feel like a stone just dropped into my stomach. “You all have functional brains, last time I checked,” I say. “You can think like the Erudite, too.” “But we don’t have special Divergent brains!” says Marlene. She touches her fingertips to my scalp and squeezes lightly. “Come on, do your magic.” “There’s no such thing as Divergent magic, Mar,” says Lynn.

How’d you get the job?” says Lynn. “You’re not that special.” “It was more because of where I was after the simulation attack. Smack-dab in a pack of Dauntless traitors. I decided to go with it,” he says. “Not sure about Tori, though.” “She transferred from Erudite,” I say. What I don’t say, because I’m sure she wouldn’t want everyone to know, is that Tori probably seemed explosive in Erudite headquarters because they murdered her brother for being Divergent. She told me once that she was waiting for an opportunity to get revenge. “Oh,” says Zeke. “How do you know that?” “Well, all the faction transfers have a secret club,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “We meet every third Thursday.” Zeke snorts. “Where’s Four?” says Uriah, checking his watch. “Should we start without him?” “We can’t,” says Zeke. “He’s getting The Info.” Uriah nods like that means something. Then he pauses and says, “What info, again?” “The info about Kang’s little peacemaking meeting with Jeanine,” says Zeke. “Obviously.” Across the room, I see Christina sitting at a table with her sister. They are both reading something. My entire body tenses. Cara, Will’s older sister, is walking across the room toward Christina’s table. I duck my head. “What?” Uriah says, looking over his shoulder. I want to punch him. “Stop it!” I say. “Could you be any more obvious?” I lean forward, holding my arms on the table. “Will’s sister is over there.” “Yeah, I talked to her about getting out of Erudite once, while I was there,” says Zeke. “Said she saw an Abnegation woman get killed while she was on a mission for Jeanine and couldn’t stomach it anymore.” “Are we sure she’s not just an Erudite spy?” Lynn says. “Lynn, she saved half our faction from this stuff,” says Marlene, tapping the bandage on her arm from where the Dauntless traitors shot her. “Well, half of half of our faction.” “In some circles they call that a quarter, Mar,” Lynn says.

Back in District 12, Kat toggles back and forth between wearing her preferred hunting gear and Cinna’s clothes, which her mother

Logan is a character on one of my favorite TV shows, Veronica Mars.

We’ll have a drink and all watch Veronica Mars. I think in the next episode she gets roughed up in a pool hall. Anyone would need a drink while watching that.

—¿Quién es Veronica Mars? —¿No sabes quién es? —¿Debería? —¡La hostia! Sí que es verdad que eres de otro planeta.

There’s no such thing as Divergent magic, Mar,” says Lynn. “And if there is, we shouldn’t be consulting it,” says Shauna. It’s the first thing she’s said since we sat down. She doesn’t even look at me when she says it; she just scowls at her younger sister. “Shauna--” Zeke starts. “Don’t ‘Shauna’ me!” she says, focusing her scowl on him instead. “Don’t you think someone with the aptitude for multiple factions might have a loyalty problem? If she’s got aptitude for Erudite, how can we be sure she’s not working for Erudite?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” says Tobias, his voice low. “I am not being ridiculous.” She smacks the table. “I know I belong in Dauntless because everything I did in that aptitude test told me so. I’m loyal to my faction for that reason--because there’s nowhere else I could possibly be. But her? And you?” She shakes her head. “I have no idea who you’re loyal to. And I’m not going to pretend like everything’s okay.” She gets up, and when Zeke reaches for her, she throws his hand aside, marching toward one of the doors. I watch her until the door closes behind her and the black fabric that hands in front of it settles. I feel wound up, like I might scream, only Shauna isn’t here for me to scream at. “It’s not magic,” I say hotly. “You just have to ask yourself what the most logical response to a particular situation is.” I am greeted with blank stares. “Seriously,” I say. “If I were in this situation, staring at a group of Dauntless guards and Jack Kang, I probably wouldn’t resort to violence, right?” “Well, you might, if you had your own Dauntless guards. And then all it takes is one shot--bam, he’s dead, and Erudite’s better off,” says Zeke. “Whoever they send to talk to Jack Kang isn’t going to be some random Erudite kid; it’s going to be someone important,” I say. “It would be a stupid move to fire on Jack Kang and risk losing whoever they send as Jeanine’s representative.” “See? This is why we need you to analyze the situation,” Zeke says. “If it was me, I would kill him; it would be worth the risk.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I already have a headache. “Fine.” I try to put myself in Jeanine Matthews’s place. I already know she won’t negotiate with Jack Kang. Why would she need to? He has nothing to offer her. She will use the situation to her advantage. “I think,” I say, “that Jeanine Matthews will manipulate him. And that he will do anything to protect his faction, even if it means sacrificing the Divergent.” I pause for a moment, remembering how he held his faction’s influence over our heads at the meeting. “Or sacrificing the Dauntless. So we need to hear what they say in that meeting.” Uriah and Zeke exchange a look. Lynn smiles, but it isn’t her usual smile. It doesn’t spread to her eyes, which look more like gold than ever, with that coldness in them. “So let’s listen in,” she says.

So what are you doing?” Paul said, tapping the diary. “Oh, um. Studying.” His gaze took in the suspect graph and time line, and he raised his eyebrows. “For what?” I blinked, at a loss for a response. I didn’t want to lie, but I couldn’t see telling him the truth. I’d been sitting here trying to visualize myself as Veronica Mars, all smart and badass. But in reality, I felt more like Inspector Gadget with my go-go button stuck in neutral.

The response in the office was predictable, though it wasn't Mac who cooed the loudest; it was her dad. "Who's a big fierce monster dog? Who's a bloodthirsty hound from Hell? It's you. Yes it is." Keith knelt to the floor and tickled the puppy's pudgy stomach. Veronica and Logan watched, amused. "I didn't know he was this anxious for grandchildren," Veronica said.

So, your plan is to just go all high school detective like you’re Veronica Mars or something?

Knock what off?" I ask. "This whole -Veronica Mars thing you're doing," she says.

This is seriously threatening my hardboiled persona,” Veronica said, “because I have never wanted to squee so badly in my life.

OK, Veronica Mars.” Dot chuckled

You've reached Logan and here's today's inspirational message "To love and win is the best thing. To love and lose: the next best." -William Thackeray

Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate; think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.