Quote

When she slept, she looked peaceful, beautiful. Not Lena's kind of beautiful, something different. She looked content - like a sunny day, a cold glass of milk, an unopened book before you cracked the binding.

Kami Garcia

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Kami Garcia
Age: 52
Born: 1972
Born: March 25
Artist
Novelist
Teacher
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
Kind
Peaceful
Unopened
Something
Glasses
Lena
Like
Content
Slept
Looked
Binding
Cold
Cracked
Beautiful
Sunny
Book
Milk
Different
Glass

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It’s funny how the good things are all tied up with the bad. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which. But either way, you end up taking your sugar with your salt and your kicks with your kisses.
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I didn't want to choose one world. I wanted to be part of both. I didn't want to see only one side of the sky. I wanted to see it all.
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I'd never really thought past the whole dying-for-the-sake-of-the-world part of things. When you're alive, you don't dwell on how you're going to spend your time once you're dead. You just figure you're gone, and the rest will pretty much take care of itself.
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Sometimes things aren't what they seem and even a Seer can't see what's commin'.
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She had the power to destroy. I had only seen the power to love. When you discovered both, who could figure out what to do with that?
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Even when I didn't know anything else about where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. You were my Wayward, even then. Everything always brought me back to you. Everything.
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words same as always same as nothing when nothing is the same
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I'm not even sure we remembered to kiss. What we had went deeper than a kiss
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The mortal world is in a state of Beautiful Chaos and destruction, which will ultimately lead to an exquisite end.
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Nightmares end. That's how you know they're nightmares.
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A Seer's moon, a Siren's tears, Nineteen Mortal, Wayward fears, Incubus graves and Caster rivers, The Final Page the End delivers.
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There was a choice to be made, and Lena hadn't made it. The songs never lied. At least, they hadn't yet.
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Hey, Ethan. Yeah? Remember the Twinkie on the bus? The one I gave you in second grade, the day we met? The one you found on the floor and gave me without telling me? Nice. He grinned and shot the ball. It never really fell on the floor. I made that part up.
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Some things are private, Ethan. Even for grown-ups.
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I want you here. I don't care if it's a hundred degrees and every blade of grass dies. Without you, none of that matters to me.
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Sunday night, I reread The Catcher in the Rye until I felt tired enough to fall asleep. Only I never got tired enough. And I couldn't read, because reading didn't feel the same.
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Everything in Gatlin was rigged. Why would the carnival games be any different?
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