Isabel Quotes

“Voicemail #1: “Hi, Isabel Culpeper. I am lying in my bed, looking at the ceiling. I am mostly naked. I am thinking of … your mother. Call me.”

Voicemail #2: The first minute and thirty seconds of “I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You” by the Bee Gees.

Voicemail #3: “I’m bored. I need to be entertained. Sam is moping. I may kill him with his own guitar. It would give me something to do and also make him say something. Two birds with one stone! I find all these old expressions unnecessarily violent. Like, ring around the rosy. That’s about the plague, did you know? Of course you did. The plague is, like, your older cousin. Hey, does Sam talk to you? He says jack shit to me. God, I’m bored. Call me.”

Voicemail #4: “Hotel California” by the Eagles, in its entirety, with every instance of the word California replaced with Minnesota.

Voicemail #5: “Hi, this is Cole St. Clair. Want to know two true things? One, you’re never picking up this phone. Two, I’m never going to stop leaving long messages. It’s like therapy. Gotta talk to someone. Hey, you know what I figured out today? Victor’s dead. I figured it out yesterday, too. Every day I figure it out again. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I feel like there’s no one I can —”

Voicemail #6: “So, yeah, I’m sorry. That last message went a little pear-shaped. You like that expression? Sam said it the other day. Hey, try this theory on for size: I think he’s a dead British housewife reincarnated into a Beatle’s body. You know, I used to know this band that put on fake British accents for their shows. Boy, did they suck, aside from being assholes. I can’t remember their name now. I’m either getting senile or I’ve done enough to my brain that stuff’s falling out. Not so fair of me to make this one-sided, is it? I’m always talking about myself in these things. So, how are you, Isabel Rosemary Culpeper? Smile lately? Hot Toddies. That was the name of the band. The Hot Toddies.”

Voicemail #20: “I wish you’d answer.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“Beneath me, the bed tipped as Cole edged closer. I felt him lean over me. His breath, warm and measured, hit my cheek. Two breaths. Three. Four. I didn't know what I wanted. Then I heard him stop breathing, and a second later, I felt his lips on my mouth.

It wasn't the sort of kiss I'd had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. My mouth parted and stilled; it was so quiet, a whisper, not a shout. Cole's hand touched my neck, thumb pressed into the skin next to my jaw. It wasn't a touch that said I need more. It was a touch that said I want this.

It was all completely soundless. I didn't think either of us was breathing.

Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered.

He said, "That's how I would kiss you, if I loved you.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“I couldn't imagine anyone ever reading a book enough to make it look like that. It looked like it had been driven over by a school bus after someone had taken a bath with it.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Linger

“Cole,” I said, “do you think I’m lovable?”
“As in ‘cuddly and’?”
“As in ‘able to be loved,’” I said.
Cole’s gaze was unwavering. Just for a moment, I had the strange idea that I could see exactly what he had looked like when he was younger, and exactly what he’d look like when he was older. It was piercing, a secret glimpse of his future. “Maybe,” he said. “But you won’t let anybody try.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I can’t tell the diference between not fighting,” I said,“and giving up.”
Despite my eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear ran out of my left eye. I was so angry that it had escaped. I was so angry.
Beneath me, the bed tipped as Cole edged closer. I felt him lean over me. His breath, warm and measured, hit my cheek. Two breaths. Three. Four. I didn’t know what I wanted. Then I heard him stop breathing, and a second later, I felt his lips on my mouth. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with him before, hungry, wanting, desperate. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft that it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it waslike a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. My mouth parted and stilled; it was so quiet, a whisper, not a shout. Cole’s hand touched my neck, thumb pressed into the
skin next to my jaw. It wasn’t a touch that said “I need more”. It was a touch that said “I want this.”
It was all completely soundless. I didn’t think either of us was breathing.
Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered.
He said, “That’s how I would kiss you, if I loved you.”
― Maggie Stiefvater , Forever

“He started to dance. And all at once, because Cole was dancing, I was dancing. And this Cole was even more persuasive than the last one. This was everything about Cole's smile made into a real thing, a physical object made out of his hands looped around me, and his long body pushed up against mine. I loved to dance, but I'd always been aware that I was dancing, aware of what my body was doing. Now, with this music thumping and Cole dancing with me, everything became invisible but the music. I was invisible. My hips were the booming bass. My hands on Cole were the wails of the synthesizer. My body was nothing but the hard, pulsing beat of the track.

My thoughts were flashes in between the downbeats.

beat:

my hand pressed on Cole's stomach

beat:

our hips crushed together

beat:

Cole's laugh

beat:

we were one person

Even knowing that Cole was good at this because it was what he did didn't make it any less of an amazing thing. Plus, he wasn't trying to be amazing without me--every move of his body was to make us move together. There was no ego, just the music and our bodies.

When the track ended, Cole stepped back, out of breath, half a smile on his face. I couldn't see how he could stop. I wanted to dance until I couldn't stand up. I wanted to crush our bodies against each other until there was no pulling them apart.

"You're an addiction," I told him.

"You should know.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“Oh my God. What in—”
I was going to be killed by two generations of beautiful women. While naked.
“Mom,” Isabel snapped, interrupting. “Do you mind not staring? It’s totally perv.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Linger

“I leaned across the table towards the crumb-thrower. "Do that again," I said, loud enough to be heard over the opera singer, Dolly, my mother, and the smell of the breadsticks, "and I will sell your firstborn child to the devil.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“A cell phone rings. I can feel the vibration through Brittany’s pants.
“It’s hers,” I say.
“Answer it,” Isa Instructs.
I already feel like I’ve kidnapped the girl. Now I’m gonna answer her cell? Shit. Rolling her a bit, I feel for the bulge in her back pocket.
“Contesta,” Isa whispers loudly, this time in Spanish.
“I am,” I hiss, my fingers clumsy as I fumble for the phone.
“I’ll do it,” Paco says, leaning over the seats and reaching toward Brittany’s ass.
I whack his hand away. “Get your hands off her.”
“Geez, man, I was just tryin’ to help.”
My response is a glare.”
― Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry

“whoopdie-friggin-doo, fooled you!”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Shiver

“Nothing had changed. Nothing.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“I felt a tickle on my skin; it took me a moment to realize that Cole was driving his die-cast Mustang up my arm. He was laughing to himself, hushed and infectious, as if there was still any reason to be quite.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“She smiled as she poured tea into his cup. “I hope you find your rooms comfortable?”
“Quite.” He took a too-hasty sip of tea and scalded his tongue.
“The view is to your liking?”
He had a view of a brick wall. “Indeed.”
She fluttered her eyelashes at him over the rim of her teacup. “And the bed. Is it soft and… yielding?”
He nearly choked on the bite of cake he’d just taken.
“Or do you prefer a firmer bed?” she asked sweetly. “One that refuses to yield too soon?”
“I think”—he narrowed his eyes at her—“whatever mattress I have on the bed you gave me is perfect. But tell me, my lady, what sort of mattress do you prefer? All soft goose down or one that’s a bit… harder?”
It was very fast, but he saw it: Her gaze flashed down to the juncture of his thighs and then up again. If there hadn’t been anything to see there before, there certainly was now.
“Oh, I like a nice stiff mattress,” she purred. “Well warmed and ready for a long ride.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Thief of Shadows

“If an entire nation could seek its freedom, why not a girl?”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Chains

“It hardly mattered. She was tired of waiting for him to acknowledge who he was. Tired of donning a false mask of gaiety when she was so much more—felt so much more—beneath. No one had ever noticed her mask. No one but him. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t make the first move, then damn it, she would.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Thief of Shadows

“Todos me adoram... E quem me ama?”
― Pedro Bandeira, A Marca de uma Lágrima

“The World," she said, "is chock full of bitchy girls.”
― Sarah Dessen, Keeping the Moon

“Isabel's infamous tweets ranged from the cartoonish and impossible:
Im going to pull ur tongue out of ur mouth wrap it around ur neck n strangle u w it so hard ur eyes will pop out. i will pee in the sockets.
To the quaint:
Get ur fcking hands off him bitch i will cut u. #RupertLIsMine
To the cryptically disturbing:
I watch u in your sleep.
I would never condone Isabel's scary tweets, but you had to give the girl credit for managing to stay under 140 characters every time.”
― Goldy Moldavsky, Kill the Boy Band

“I thought of all the ancestors waiting at the water's edge for their stolen children to come home. Waiting and waiting and waiting . . .”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Chains

“How could men who liked cats be bad?”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Chains

“Evil is its own undoing.”
― Veronica Rossi, Seeker

“The future was getting here faster than I'd expected.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“But it just makes me tired even thinking about it. It reminds me of that feeling I had before I left. Like my lungs were made of lead. Like I can’t even think about starting to care about anything. Like I either wish that they were all dead, or I was, because I can’t stand the pull of all that history between us. That’s before I even pick up the phone. I’m so tired I never want to wake up again. But I’ve figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“My pulse was racing, my skin searing, and suddenly I felt light-headed. I sat back and put hands over my mouth. My room looked exactly the same as it had before I’d picked up his call. I threw my phone at the wall. Halfway through its flight, I realized that my father would kill me if I destroyed it, but it smacked the wall and slid to the ground without any pieces falling off it. It looked exactly the same as before. Nothing had changed. Nothing.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“Saber que era importante para alguien no implicaba que también tuviese que serlo para ti.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“con ella había aprendido que, si le quitabas el cinismo, oías una verdad hecha de cansancio y soledad.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Forever

“How was the kiss with Alex?"
"Nice," I say, thinking about how sensual it was. "Actually, Isabel, it was more than nice. It was fucking incredible."
Isabel starts laughing, and I laugh right along with her this time.”
― Simone Elkeles, Perfect Chemistry

“[...]sabía que el organismo producía tres tipos de lágrimas, cada una con su propia composición química. Una se generaba con regularidad para mantener la humedad del ojo. La segunda se activaba para lubricar y expulsar un cuerpo extraño que hubiera penetrado en el ojo. La tercera era producto de la tristeza. Su misión consistía en expulsar las sustancias segregadas por el sentimiento de aflicción. Es decir, llorabas para vomitar la pena.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Sinner

“Suyla yıkanmak ne kadar Müslümanlıksa, yıkanmamak da o kadar Hristiyanlıktı. Trajikomikti, çünkü Hristiyanlığın hamiliğine soyunmuş Katolik Isabel, 'İç çamaşırlarımı Granada düşene kadar değiştirmeyeceğim' demişti. Eh, kraliçeleri öyleyse ordunun geri kalanını siz düşünün. 1492'de Granada düştüğünde, Elhamra yakınlarında kimse bulunmak istemezdi heralde!”
― İlker Özünlü, Endülüs

“Secrets were currency and Isabel intended to stay rich.”
― Emma Törzs, Ink Blood Sister Scribe

“Seven years ago tonight, every dream I ever had came true. That's not something too many men get to claim. I'm very lucky, blessed, whichever you believe. Probably a lot of both. Tonight marks the anniversary of my debut performance at Ceasars Palace." On his cue, the crowd whipped into congratulary rapture.

Blindsided by his recollection, Isavel was motionless. That's what he recalls happening on this date? "Indulgent, lazy, self-centered... jerk!" she said, grabbing her purse, thinking she'd climb over the seat. "I'm going home!" Before she could turn, hositing herself over, a spotlight landed on her. In the darkened arena Aidan and Isabel were face-to-face. He stared. The same way he did years ago in his pickup truck, holding tight to her wrist, the same way he did on the dance floor at the gala. The same way he did in the moment she left him.

"If you can believe it," he said, still staring, "something even more important happened that day. As dreams of fame and fortune go, this topped everything. I've always know that." Then, in a softer voice: "And I'm a fool because I should have never given up." Even from her vantage point, Isabel could see the gulp roll through his throat. "It's my great privilege this evening to introduce my wife, Isabel Royce." He gestered to the box. Isabel responded by sinking to her seat.

"What's he talking about?" she hissed to Mary Louise. "We're divorced!" From her right, Tanya nudged her. It was like being on a palace balcony, Isabel offering a deer-in-the-headlights wave to the subjects, a thoroughly baffled look at Aidan. In return, he smiled at her clear confusion.

"My wife ..."

Why is he calling me that?

There was a mixed reaction, lots of gasps, some applause, and the disappointed groans from female fans. "She's done me the tremendous honor of making a rare appearance at one of my shows. Seven years ago, she agreed to marry me. At the time, my life was more trouble than promise. We were two scared kids who had nothing but each other. Really, it was all I needed. We were married in true Vegas fashion." Hoots and hollers echoed, his glance dropping to the stage floor. Sharing this was making the performer uncomfortable. He pushed on. "While most women would have been satisfied with a ring ... " His long fingers fluttered over the snake. "This was Isabel's idea of a permanent bond." It drew a wave of subtle laughter, Isabel included. "Do you remember how the story went?" he said, speaking only to Isabel in a crowd of thousands. "As long as I had it, I'd never be without you. Turns out, it wasn't a story, it was the absolute truth. Lately though," he said, turning back to his public narrative, "circumstance, some serious, some calculated, has prevented me from getting my wife's attention. So tonight I resorted to an old performer's trick, a captive audience. I planned this moment, Isabel, knowing you'd be here. Regardless of anything you may believe, I meant what I said on our wedding night, in the moment I said it. I love you. I always have.”
― Laura Spinella, Perfect Timing