Hannah > Hannah's Quotes

“sleep is such a luxury, which i cant afford.”
― Robin Sikarwar

“O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?”
― William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part Two

“You should date a girl who reads.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”
― Rosemarie Urquico

“For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge you’ll never walk alone.
...
We leave you a tradition with a future.
The tender loving care of human beings will never become obsolete.
People even more than things have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed and redeemed.
Never throw out anybody.

Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands: one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.

Your “good old days” are still ahead of you, may you have many of them.”
― Sam Levenson, In One Era & Out the Other

“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”
― John Green, Looking for Alaska

“Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore.”
― Lady Gaga

“You're my sister," he said finally. "My sister, my blood, my family. I should want to protect you" - he laughed soundlessly and without any humor - "to protect you from the sort of boys who want to do with you exactly what I want to do."
Clary's breath caught. "You said you just wanted to be my brother from now on."
"I lied," he said.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Glass

“So that’s it then. You’re just going to be mean to me. (Artemis)
Mean to you? Mean? Fuck you, Artemis! I was butchered on the floor by your brother while you watched it happen. Then, when I was finally happy someplace, gods forbid, you tricked me into drinking your blood to bind me to you. And you think I’m mean? Bitch, please, you haven’t seen mean yet. (Acheron)”
― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Acheron

“Say 'provoking' again. Your mouth looks provocative when you do.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“You smell good, too,” said Patch

It’s called a shower.” I was staring straight ahead. When he didn’t answer, I turned sideways. “Soap. Shampoo. Hot water.”

Naked. I know the drill.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“You possess other people's...bodies."

He accepted that statement with a nod.

"Do you want to possess my body?"

"I want to do a lot of things to your body, but that's not one of them.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“Being with you never felt wrong. It's the one thing I did right. You're the one thing I did right.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

“You're a guardian angel now." I was still too much in awe to wrap my mind around it, but at the same time I felt amazement, curiosity...happiness.

"I'm your guardian angel," he said.

"I get my very own guardian angel? What, exactly, is your job description?"

"Guard your body." His smile tipped higher. "I take my job seriously, which means I'm going to need to get acquainted with the subject matter on a personal level.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" I asked.
"If I did?"
"I don't like it."
He grinned. "It stays, Angel.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“Coach: "All right, Patch. let's say you're at a party. the room is full of girls of all shapes and sizes. You see blondes, brunettes, redheads, a few girl with black hair. Some are talkive, while other appear shy. You've one girl who fits your profile - attractive, intelligent and vulnerable. Dow do you let her know you're interested?"

Patch: "Single her out. Talk to her."

Coach: "Good. Now for the big question - how do you know if she's game or if she wants you to move on?"

Patch: "I study her. I figure out what she's thinking and feeling. She's not gonig to come right out and tell me, which is why i have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold me eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now?”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“You should go," I breathed. "You should definitely go."

"Go here?" His mouth was on my shoulder. "Or here?" It moved up my neck.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“I nibbled my lower lip. "If you could see into my past just by touching my back, you'd have a hard time resisting the temptation too."

"I have a hard time keeping my hands off you without that added bonus.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

“You're mine, Angel," he murmured, brushing the words across my jawbone as I arched my neck higher, inviting him to kiss everywhere. "You have me forever.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

“Patch wasn't the kind of guy mothers smiled on. He was the kind of guy they changed the house locks for.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“He grinned when I didn't protest, and lowered his mouth toward mine. The first touch was just that - a touch. A teasing, tempting softness. I licked my lips and Patch's grin deepened.
"More?" he asked.
I curled my hands into his hair, pulling him closer. "More.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“I watched him pitch the ball at a table neatly lined with six bowling pins, my stomach giving a little flutter when his T-shirt crept up in the back, revealing a stripe of skin. I knew from experience that every inch of him was hard, defined muscle. His back was smooth and perfect too, the scars from when he’d fallen once again replaced with wings—wings I, and every other human, couldn’t see.

“Five dollars says you can’t do it again,” I said, coming up behind him.

Patch looked back and grinned. “I don’t want your money, Angel.”

“Hey now, kids, let’s keep this discussion PG-rated,” Rixon said.

“All three remaining pins,” I challenged Patch.

“What kind of prize are we talking about?” he asked.

“Bloody hell,” Rixon said. “Can’t this wait until you’re alone?”

Patch gave me a secret smile, then shifted his weight back, cradling the ball into his chest. He dropped his right shoulder, brought his arm around, and sent the ball flying forward as hard as he could. There was a loud crack! and the remaining three pins scattered off the table.

“Aye, now you’re in trouble, lass,” Rixon shouted at me over the commotion caused by a pocket of onlookers, who were clapping and whistling for Patch. Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.

“You got lucky,” I said.

“I’m about to get lucky.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

“Let’s be honest, Nora. You’ve got it bad for me." His eyes held a lot of depth. "And I’ve got it bad for you.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“What good is a body if I can't have you?”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“Is everything a joke to you?” I asked.
He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. “Not everything.”
“Like what?”
“You.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“I’m going to grab a cheeseburger,” I told Patch. “Want anything?”
“Nothing on the menu.”
I smiled. “Why, Patch, are you flirting with me?”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Crescendo

“You dress to impress," I said approvingly.
"No, Angel." He leaned in, his teeth softly grazing my ear. "I undress to impress.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Finale

“I can't imagine why you're so interested."
He shook his head. "Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“He hung up on me.

I stared at the phone in disbelief, then ripped a clean sheet of paper from my notebook. I scribbled Jerk on the first line. One the line beneath it, I added, Smokes cigars. Will die of lung cancer. Hopefully soon. Excellent physical shape.

I immediately scribbled over the last observation until it was illegible.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“He trapped my hand against his chest and yanked my sleeve down past my wrist, covering my hand with it. Just as quickly, he did the same thing with the other sleeve. He held my shirt by the cuffs, my hands captured. My mouth opened in protest.

Reeling me closer, he didn’t stop until I was directly in front of him. Suddenly he lifted me onto the counter. My face was level with his. He fixed me with a dark, inviting smile. And that’s when I realized this moment had been dancing around the edge of my fantasies for several days now.

"Take off your hat," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

He slid it around, the brim facing backward.

I scooted to the edge of the counter, my legs dangling one on either side of him. Something inside of me was telling me to stop—but I swept that voice to the far back of my mind.

He spread his hands on the counter, just outside my hips. Tilting his head to one side, he moved closer. His scent, which was all damp dark earth, overwhelmed me.

I inhaled two sharp breaths. No. This wasn’t right. Not this, not with Patch. He was frightening. In a good way, yes. But also in a bad way. A very bad way.

"You should go," I breathed. "You should definitely go."

"Go here?" His mouth was on my shoulder. "Or here?" It moved up my neck.

My brain couldn’t process one logical thought. Patch’s mouth was roaming north, up over my jaw, gently sucking at my skin...

"My legs are falling asleep," I blurted. It wasn’t a total lie. I was experiencing tingling sensations all
through my body, legs included.

"I could solve that." Patch’s hands closed on my hips.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush