barbie :P

“We are who we are not because of our birthright, but because of what we choose to do in this life. It cannot be boiled down to black and white. Not when there is so much in between. You cannot say something is moral or immoral without understanding the nuances behind it.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“No parent should have to bury a child ... No mother should have to bury a son. Mothers are not meant to bury sons. It is not in the natural order of things.
I buried my son. In a potter's field. In a field of Blood. In empty, acrid silence. There was no funeral. There were no mourners. His friends all absent. His father dead. His sisters refusing to attend. I discovered his body alone, I dug his grave alone, I placed him in a hole, and covered him with dirt and rock alone. I was not able to finish burying him before sundown, and I'm not sure if that affected his fate ...
I begrudge God none of this. I do not curse him or bemoan my lot. And though my heart keeps beating only to keep breaking--I do not question why.
I remember the morning my son was born as if it was yesterday. The moment the midwife placed him in my arms, I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding. I remember holding my son, and looking over at my own mother and saying, "Now I understand why the sun comes up at day and the stars come out at night. I understand why rain falls gently. Now I understand you, Mother" ...
I loved my son every day of his life, and I will love him ferociously long after I've stopped breathing. I am a simple woman. I am not bright or learn-ed. I do not read. I do not write. My opinions are not solicited. My voice is not important ... On the day of my son's birth I was infused with a love beyond all measure and understanding ... The world tells me that God is in Heaven and that my son is in Hell. I tell the world the one true thing I know: If my son is in Hell, then there is no Heaven--because if my son sits in Hell, there is no God.”
― Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot

“Change starts with the voices of the few.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“How am I supposed to know?” she asked instead. “What’s it supposed to be like?”

Lana and Claire traded tiny smiles, and Claire asked gently, “What’s what supposed to be like?”

Lily slumped back against the sofa, feeling boneless and muddled. “Falling in love, I guess.”

“You’ll know,” Claire said. “It’s unmistakable.”

(How she could recognize Kath at the other end of a crowded Galileo hallway by the way she walked.)

“It’s like . . . well, it’s like falling,” Lana said. “Falling, or floating, or sinking.”

(Every time they kissed.)

“You won’t know which way is up.”

“It’s like having a fever.”

(The way the world seemed to narrow down to the tips of Kath’s fingers.)

“It’s like being drunk—drunk for days.”
― Malinda Lo, Last Night at the Telegraph Club