Wlw Quotes

I fell in love with you the day that I met you, and then I fell in love with the person you remembered you are. I got to fall in love with you twice. That’s— that’s magic. You’re the first thing I’ve believed in since— since I don’t even remember, okay, you’re— you’re movies and destiny and every stupid, impossible thing, and it’s not because of the fucking train, it’s because of you. It’s because you fight and you care and you’re always kind but never easy, and you won’t let anything take that away from you. You’re my hero, Jane. I don’t care if you think you’re not one. You are.

Darling, darling. I live in you, and you would die for me. I love you so.

I have done some of the best work of my life because of you. And I know you have done some of the best work of your life because of me. I don’t know a better way to explain what love means to two people like us.

I don’t believe doing something in front of everybody makes it more meaningful, anyway. If anything, it makes it stop belonging to you.

What do you say when The Girl tells you that you're The Girl to her?

You were the only one it could be.

She’s glad it’s Shara. Nobody else would have felt important enough.

The truth is, if you go to Warren, no matter what is going on in your personal life—hair trouble, existential malaise, ax murder—you do the reading.

What do you want? I want to stop living in fear. I want to stop coming up with excuses about why I'm not interested in dating. I want my family to know me. I want to get to learn more about Lisa. I want to stop feeling like everything I am is inadequate or makes me unworthy of love because of something I can't help.

If I seem confident, it’s because I have to. You, of all people, know what I mean.

I told you once I’m not a book to be read,” Ayla continued. “I take it back. I’m a book. Read me.

A tiny pathetic thought: the warmth of Ayla's touch rivaled the afternoon sun.

Jealousy is a funny thing. We spend so much of high school consumed by it, hating that another person has something we don’t, wishing we could taste what it’s like to be them.

The first time I let myself fall, it wasn’t hot at all. It was cold. January. There was ice on the sidewalks— at least, that’s what I’d heard. But this girl felt like nectarines and balconies to me. She felt like everything. She felt like a long winter, then a nervous spring, then a sticky summer, and then those last days you never thought you’d get to, the ones that spread themselves out, out, out until they feel like they go on forever. So, August is a person.

And to the girl who kissed me,’ she says, ‘I have done some of the best work of my life because of you. And I know you have done some of the best work of your life because of me. I don’t know a better way to explain what love means to two people like us.

Shara’s always been this person. ‘This is what I’ve been trying to tell you’, she wrote on a card stuck under an auditorium seat. Shara’s not nice. Shara’s so many more important things than nice.

Everyone’s assumption is for women and men to be together, and yet here we are, human girls, the Demon King’s concubines. Surely love between two women wouldn’t be so strange?

There are things that don’t make sense about me. I don’t know if I belong here. How can that be possible, to feel estranged from a place where everyone loves you? To owe your life to a place and still want to run? I’ve been trying and trying to figure out what it is about me that makes me feel this way and why it feels so deep and so big that it must be most of me, the skin stretching between my knuckles and across my shoulders and then the bones under them too. Knowing that I couldn’t have you if I wanted to—that stings almost the same. It’s almost the same feeling. They’re right beside each other. What do they have in common?

She links arms with Georgia to dance and sends up her only prayer of the past four years: May they always come back to each other

Being a woman attracted to another woman was confusing; a constant game of comparison and lust. You never quite knew whether you were jealous of their body or just jealous of the person who got to touch it.

Cos I fancy you. I'm hoping that if I go to all this effort you'll look at me and think, 'Well, she might be a dumbass, but she tries'. And then, I dunno, maybe you'll flash me or something.

Last night I spent in her arms - and tonight I hate her - which being interpreted, means that I adore her; that I cannot lie in my bed and not feel the magic of her body. I feel more powerfully all those so-termed sexual impulses with her than I have with any man. She enthrals, enslaves me - and her personal self - her body absolute - is my worship.

People break our hearts, but they create more room in them first, and that room makes it possible for us to become more ourselves.

What it would be like to have someone bite down a smile when they point and say, "Yeah, her. She's mine" To live alongside someone, to kiss and be kissed, to be wanted

I should have stopped sooner, before our lips had ever touched. But now I knew her sweetness, and every part of my being yearned for more.

Oh, she deserves so many good things, and I want to be one of them

Just because the straights in Hollywood don’t know how to tell my story doesn’t mean it’s not out there.

I want you to stay in the city for a month." "Why?" Because I would miss you. Because I am not ready to let you go.

Some ineffable piece of me had gone, rewritten by her touch, and what had been stolen was patched by a piece of her, some bit of her heart I had unknowingly taken with me.

And Delilah had gotten through life by putting herself first, only concentrating herself with what she knew was true, because she’d learned a long time ago that she couldn’t control anyone but herself. She couldn’t change anyone’s mind, couldn’t make someone love her who had no interest in doing so, and couldn’t keep someone from leaving her if that’s what they wanted to do.

Just because everyone here knows who you are, and everyone talks about everyone else’s business, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to be the person you know you are. There are things out there for you that you haven’t even thought of yet, that you don’t even know how to think of yet. Who you are here doesn’t have to be the same as who you are out there. And if the person you feel like you have to be in this town doesn’t feel right to you, you’re allowed to leave. You’re allowed to exist. Even if it means existing somewhere else.

She flipped her hair over to the opposite side. My stomach flipped over to its opposite side.

It pained me, her hand wrapping around the tender, beating something beneath it, as though her fingers ruptured holes within my chest, but I could not bear to have her leave.

When Shara looks at her like that, all airy and sly, it makes Chloe think of the first time her mama brought home an icebox pie. It was strawberries and cream, her mom’s favorite, and the whole thing seemed to be a feat of mechanical physics. It didn’t make sense how the strawberries held effortlessly together when you sliced it, or how the cloud of meringue sat weightless on top. She remembers studying the layers from the side and having the inexplicable thought, This is a Shara Wheeler kind of pretty. God. Shall I compare thee to an icebox pie? Couldn’t be gayer if she tried.

Being with girls is the same—it’s shameless and gritty, it’s not as soft as people make it out to be. It’s soft with men too. Even unknowingly, we diminish ourselves little by little to feel more loved. As girls, we don’t need to diminish ourselves when we’re together, we fit in every sense of the word. It doesn’t matter if we’re bruised, bloody, or empty, we become these things together—we fit.

Sometimes, when I walk into a church, I’m not sure I’m supposed to be there, even though it feels like home. Home hasn’t always been a good place for me to be.

Intimacy is about truth

She hadn't anticipated Maud Blyth. She didn't know how anyone ever could.

I could have bathed in every piece of her, but I was left parched for thirst.

Another word for lesbian is: devourer of the dark.

Moonlight silvered the long line of Lucy’s back as she sank to her knees—not submissively, as one conquered, but as a queen kneels at a coronation.

I miss you, she thought, speaking to nothing in the quiet of her heart. I will always miss you.

And a naïve part of me thinks that since we have made it this far, we will make it forever. If we existed for even a second, we could exist eternally.

They melted into a series of deep, lush kisses, hot and dizzying and endless, lips moving together, Crier’s mouth opening beneath Ayla’s, the taste of her like summer rain. Ayla pushed into her over and over again, taking her mouth, already addicted to this, to her, to Crier, everything about her, taste and scent and the warmth of her skin under Ayla’s hands.

They were still holding hands. They hadn’t let go, not even once. Ayla’s hand was sweaty; there was dirt and sweat and probably blood slicking their palms, but she didn’t want to lose this point of contact. This point of warmth, solidity, in the middle of a huge and frightening thing. The machinery of war.

No one wants to be a real hero; it’s too hard. My husband didn’t give a damn whether the work I was doing was noble as long as it appeared to be. When I killed someone then - something I did a lot more than I do now - it was for the greater good. It was such bullshit.

Kaede told herself that what she felt was only a little seed; she would simply not water it. It wouldn't grow any larger than this tiny prickle of attraction. She wouldn't let it. But that night after everyone had left, and they had all spread their blankets on the floor of the hall, Kaede lay awake for some time, trying to make out the sound of Taisin's breathing in the dark.

In her anniversary card, Daisy wrote: If they say we don't exist, that they can't see us anywhere except rotten corners, in perverse bodies, how come I can see you and hold you and you're holy; how come I can love you and home you and you're there, in flesh, in my mind, in my blood; how come I keep waking up in this love and feel rested? What else to do now then, when a love like this finds you? What else but praise? What else but dance?

The silent times were the hardest. That was when I had to mourn. I would close one eye and look at my phone, imagine it cracking in half, the way people sitting shiva ripped a piece of clothing. I didn't want to mourn. I didn't want to accept my loss -- not only the loss of communication, but the loss of an idea that my mother was going to be the one to change. It made me feel like a loser. It meant I had wanted something and hadn't gotten it, that I'd been, in some way, rejected. It meant my needs were too big for this world.

(...) thought of all that could be done between two women in possession of bodies, what effects could be achieved with fingers and tongues.

Maud, darling," she said, very soft. "You're worth more than this quest. I've told you that all along.

Come with me this morning to the church within our hearts, where the bells are always ringing, and the preacher whose name is love — shall intercede for us!

I had missed you all my life.

To savor every moment together would be enough. It would have to be enough.

You give in to your passions with the fearlessness of one already damned

And yet. And yet. There were always words, words under words, with Malini. Malini never lid. But her truths were deep waters.

You seem hard to hold, I guess. Your attention." He took a moment to reply. "That might be true, usually. But you hold mine.

Even a love in mourning still had sparks in it.

Don’t you realize I want to know everything about you? That even now, when I should have forgotten you, all I desire is to know your heart better than my own.

I wasn't in the habit of confessing my sapphic proclivities as a sin, since I didn't consider them to be one, but my idolatry of Carmilla definitely counted as something worth confessing.

I wish I were with you, dear, sitting by the fire undressing, as we used to sit; and I would try to tell you what I feel. I do not know how I am writing this even to you. I am afraid to stop, or I should tear up the letter, and I don’t want to stop, for I do so want to tell you all.

I used to imagine the sea as something that seethed and then quieted, a froth of activity tampering down into the dark and still. I know now that this isn't how it goes, that things beneath the surface are what have to move and change to cause the chain reaction higher up.

Odette gave a small smile, like the kiss J. M. Barrie talked about in Peter Pan. That was one of the first things Rin had thought when she’d first met Odette; the kiss that girls hold on to and won’t give to the world except the soul who matches theirs. Odette had been familiar even as a stranger.

She died scared and in pain, and I felt it.

Her voice is liquid, streaming, sultry and cool like shade spooling over the edge of her mouth on a hot day.

I know,” she said, her lips against my neck, kissing me until I went soft beneath her. “You keep your lightning within.

Eyes up here, sweetheart,” Tabby drawled, all low and sexy, and a flush of heat rushed through her.

I miss you, the letter said. Artless words. She could feel Priya in them, and it made her heart bloom with helpless fondness.

Women could abuse other women. Women have abused other women. And queers needed to take this issue seriously, because no one else would.

Sounds like you'd do a bunch," Liv breathed. Beneath the brim of her hat, I found her eyes. "You would not rest," I said.

Girls shimmered, as if all the light shone on them and not on the boys at all.

... she was just another girl I would never get to know.

All I'm doing is trying to love people. All I need is the right kind of love back.

You keep running away.” “You keep finding me.

It's a shame that you can't even come out to me.

Malini, she wanted to say. Wanted to shape that name in her mouth.

Under my pillow is an old scrap of paper, where Susannah has scribbled, I love you x The thrill of it makes me cry, because I'm not allowed to love her back.

Did Automae . . . feel things like that? Could an Automa girl feel that tug in her lower belly, that fishhook pull, making her want more, want harder, want deeper, want sweeter? Want hands in her hair, on her waist, on her hips, want—? Don’t go there, Ayla told herself, but she couldn’t help it. Yesterday afternoon in the river, she had seen the whole of Crier’s body, and the yearning that drummed through her wasn’t anything she’d felt before, and her own reaction wasn’t anything she’d felt before, the oceanic pulse between her hips, the things she wanted. Skin on skin, fingers intertwined. She’d tracked the drops of water trailing down Crier’s throat, her collarbone, the curve of her back, down her bare legs when she climbed back up onto the riverbank, and looking hadn’t felt like enough. Did Crier feel the same? Could Crier feel the same? Maybe Ayla already knew the answer. The way Crier had touched her in Elderell, hands flying from Ayla’s arms to her face, fingers raking through her hair, lips parting . . .

You were only – Alcestis?” “Yes” She reached out suddenly and put one sticky, sparking hand on my knee. “How lovely,” she said with the force of a spear thudding into the earth. Then, wondering: “How strange.

You know, Mimosa,” Nadia says, the name beautiful in her mouth as it’s never been in anyone else’s, “I think we’ll manage,” and then she kisses her like she means it; like solid proof; like, finally, coming home.

The fragile thing in Priya’s chest splintered, just a little. Malini’s words were a reminder that there was so much more at stake than her soft feelings for Malini, or Malini’s for her. Politics and war and history all stood like a chasm between them.

The story of my marriage,” she said, her thumb skimming my collarbone. “Of my wedding. The story no one knows, for the bards do not sing it and the painters do not smear it on their walls. It is not fit for such audiences. But it is fit for you, Alcestis.

In fact, a whole ex-girlfriend themed ghost train sounded genuinely terrifying. You'd get in and instead of a mummy mannequin covered in toilet roll popping out, it's her and you look down and you're wearing a baggy old jumper with a stain on the front. You turn the corner and you find yourself being forced to scroll through her Instagram and there are replies from a girl with tattoos and she looks exactly like the celebrity your ex fancies most. Right at the end, they play a video on a loop that's just screenshots of all the pathetic texts you sent when you were too heartbroken to have any dignity.

What is it?" Maud said. 'Nothing' was on Violet's tongue, but Maud had requested truth from her, tonight. So Violet reached for Maud's hand, lifted the inner wrist to her mouth, and kissed it. It wasn't and answer. It was truth, withheld. Maud smiled, and in her smile was the fact that she'd noticed and let it go.

I wanted to give her a lot of things. I wanted what I had to be hers. I wondered if this is what it felt like to love someone. I already knew what it meant to be in love with someone. I'd felt it, and I'd acted it. But to love someone. To care for them. To throw your lot in with theirs and think, Whatever happens, it's you and me.

She spoke freely of you one time. Only once - when she proposed a visit from your ruling council. Murishani jested with her when she mentioned your aversion to meat, teased that she would change her ways for you." He stared at Flowridia directly now; behind the shade of her hair, she could feel it. "All she said, quite sincerely, was, 'perhaps I shall.

A Lie: You’re not my girlfriend The truth: we both know exactly who we are to each other If you want to get technical.. if you counted up the hours i spent thinking of you and the days we spent in your bedroom If we measured all the ways we touched and the things we’ve said If we weigh the promise that I will always be here or somewhere loving you I am definitely and irrevocably way more than that

But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them bare and their response is "You're safe with me"—that's intimacy. And by those standards, that moment with Celia was the most intmate one I'd ever had with anyone. It made me so aprreciative, so grateful, that I wanted to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

It only takes about fifteen minutes for me to get totally lost. We’re somewhere in the outskirts of the property, but I’ve pushed us past the tree line too far to remember which way we came from. But I’m not going to admit it to her. I wrack my brain for any of Lady Artemis’s navigation skills. Unfortunately, almost all of them rely on the nighttime constellations, and I am not spending six hours out here with Atalanta.

If you start freaking out, call me and we’ll go for a walk. Or we’ll ride the night buses. We’ll smoke some pot and get the giggles and eat a whole bag of chips. We’ll walk up and down the alleys looking for treasure and avoiding skunks. Any of those things. None of those things. Whatever you can think of. In fact, you don’t even have to think about all the silly things. I can do that too. Your girlfriend will be in charge of distractions.

Would you like my advice?" "Always." "Go back with her. Go back and face your problems there, and then defeat them. You have someone at your side now you has accepted you for all of your strengths and all your faults, so just as you share in joy, you share in trials. Go back with her and be brave. There are evils in the world, but none too great for the bravery of Adelaide Sol and the heart of Maaya Sahni combined. Of that I am absolutely certain.

But it was "woman plus habitation," and she was a stranger. That is probably the truest and most gothic part; not because of war or because we'd only net with chaperones before marriage; rather because I didn't know her, not really, until I did. She was a stranger because something essential was shielded, released in tiny bursts until it became a flood-a flooded of what I realized I did not know. Afterward, I would mourn her as if she'd died, because something had: someone we had created together

If you‟ll let me be, Persephone, I will be even better.

If you think automating a process will reduce or eliminate the errors currently in that process, all you'll really be doing is automating the generation of those errors.

If you automate a process that has errors, all you’ve done is automate the generation of those errors.

Wouldn’t they be mad if we said no? Or if I stayed?” “I don’t know, but how they feel is irrelevant. You and I have a life to live, and nothing will get in the way of that. Not a death machine, not an entire Selenthian fleet, not a town full of angry and terrified people under the rule of a sociopath, and absolutely not any small-time government official who thinks we’re at their beck and call. We do these things on our terms, and if they want to fight us on that, I am more than willing to take it right to them just like I did with all the others who stood in our way.” “I guess there are benefits to falling in love with a pirate queen,” Maaya teased, managing a small laugh. “Pirate queen, huh? I like the sound of that. But what is a pirate queen to do when she’s already found her treasure?” “Oh, please.

You aren’t embarrassed as easily as you used to be, and it’s a little disappointing,” Adelaide pouted. “I know you like a challenge,” Maaya replied, then gasped as Adelaide pulled her in for a kiss, leaning her back and holding her in her arms. Maaya was vaguely aware of an appreciative whistle or two from some bystanders, and felt the familiar sensation of her cheeks starting to burn. When Adelaide finally let her up, she grinned. “Oh, darling, you are nowhere near challenging for me just yet.

I think eventually they would understand," Maaya continued encouragingly. "I mean, they seem to have gotten better with Adelaide, right?" "Yeah, well, she's the savior of the world," Marit grumbled. "I wasn't when I left," Adelaide argued gently. "When I left I was a stubborn, headstrong brat. But I was a confident one. I knew what I wanted and I took it. The only exception was Maaya, where I asked politely.

So, my love, what is it you want to ask me? If you want my hand in marriage I just figured that was an inevitability by this point-" "No! I mean, not that I don't want... I just haven't... okay, stop. Let me start over.

For Arlo, that answer would always be yes