Ann aguirre quotes

You don’t know what it’s like to be alone until you’ve had someone inside your head.

No matter how interminable something feels, there is always, always an ending. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's bad; sometimes it's a matter of indifference, and sometimes it's heartbreaking, and your life is never the same thereafter.

Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.

He's never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.

My heart raced. He needs you, I thought. Don't let him down. I couldn't remember ever being so happy... or so scared.

It’s what you do that counts, not what you consider doing.

I’d never known it was possible to love as he did— with complete devotion yet devoid of promises.

Have you ever watched a child learning to walk? Before this week, I never had, but there's a certain grace to it. Well, if not grace, then tenacity. Fall down nine times--get up ten. And the tenth time you get where you're going, you don't stop, not for obstacles, not for other people telling you to stop. You don't listen to anything but that inner voice until you arrive where you want to be.

I’ve lost so many people. Some I left on purpose and never looked back. Some were taken from me, and I never said good-bye.

I felt like the blonde in every horror movie who hears a noise in the basement and goes to investigate alone. Sometimes you smell the stupid all around you, but you step in it anyway.

Once exposed, a secret loses all its power.

This is the way we win over our enemies, not with bigger weapons, or faster ships, but with human courage, ingenuity, and sacrifice. Don't lose hope. We've faced the darkness before-it has nothing new to teach us. As we go about our lives, let us remember the example Dr. Navarro set for us. At the right time, anyone can be a hero.

With my partner beside me, I fear nothing, not even death.

Love sounded terrible if it made you so weak, you couldn't survive with out it.

Survival feels like cowardice.

Now I know there are ways to belong to someone that don’t take anything away. A relationship shouldn’t impose limits—and if it does, then it’s wrong. A lover should help you exceed your potential, not clip your wings.

Are you afraid of falling, baby? No, I’m afraid of landing. [He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.] Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?

I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.

I’m sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.

A huntress never stabbed anything she didn't want to.

Don't worry he tells me tenderly. It doesn't matter who you've been, who you are, or who you become. I'm with you every step of the way.

For love to flourish there has to be trust. Promises don’t matter as much as personal choice.

Then in the interest of full honesty, I really wish you'd kiss me right now.

Sometimes the past needed to stay buried; it was the only way you could move on. And sometimes you had to dig it up, because that too was the only way.

More than most, I know the pain of surviving.

We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.

But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.

Show, not tell, right? Action, not words. You don’t want to hear how sorry I am or how things will be different this time. You want to see it with your own eyes. And until I can show you that, you won’t tell me what I want to hear.

Did he die well?" No, I thought. Nobody did. They just died.

His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.

People try to make sense of things, and if they don’t know the answers, they make them up,because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.

I so enjoy it when people assume I'm stupid." "Not that, just very focused on killing.

My skill didn't lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.

Caring too much could be dangerous; I saw that now. But the alternative was no better.

Before he bent his head, I knew what he was going to do. Touch his lips to mine. Oh, and I wanted him to... I stilled, hardly daring to breathe. The old refrain of cant and shouldn't sank beneath the weight of new worlds like please and yes.

He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.

She carries chaos like an overcoat.

But the world moves on, even when you don't want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops.

There’s a hollow where he used to be, and it echoes with self-imposed loss.

Sometimes broken things heal crooked. The pieces didn’t fit anymore.

Love can make us do dreadful things.

I know just how he feels that it’s come to this. Sometimes, love isn’t enough, even when it’s all you have.

Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels perfect pass in a wink, and those where you're on your knees in despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.

Sometimes you find your heroes in the unlikeliest places.

A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks; it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.

He went in, lean and deadly, and ended the creature with a lightning-fast spike of his blade. It shrieked, likely altering the rest. The death call carried like a mournful song.

There were different kinds of strength. I knew that now. It didn't always come from a knife or a willingness to fight. Sometimes it came from endurance, where the well ran deep and quiet. Sometimes it came from compassion and forgiveness.

. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.

He would bear scars because of me, as I carried them for him.

You could miss someone, but it did no good to fixate on loss. I wished I had the ready words of a Breeder or the ability to comfort with a soft touch. I didn't. Instead I had daggers and determination. That would have to do.

There’s a reason I hate jigsaw puzzles. I don’t have the patience to find all the border pieces, especially when they’re all the same shade of gray.

I’m not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. I’ve seen a chunk of the universe, true, but there’s still so much more to see. I doubt I’ll ever cure this wanderlust, and I’m content with dedicating my life to failing to sate it... He’s never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.

We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.

But courage wasn't an absence of fear; it was fighting despite the knot in your stomach.

You don’t need to be afraid of falling // when there’s someone around to catch you.

A divided heart offers a strange sensation.

Because I love you.' It was easy to say it this time now that I understood what it meant. Then I quoted his own words back to him. 'Not just when it's easy. All the time.

The whole world is like Whitewall's razors I burst out. It cuts us, and we bleed but there's no purpose to it.

I have had passionate kisses and fierce ones, kisses so sweet they tasted like pure honey and kisses that cut like knives, but until this moment, I’ve never had one that said both hello and good-bye.

But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.

His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered

Possessiveness isn’t love. I’m not even sure it qualifies as an emotion.

If I ever win you," he said, anger bright in his pale eyes, "it will be because you want me more. Not because he's gone. I'm nobody's second best.

We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his; they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.

Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.

I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.

Not just when its easy. All the time.

There are quiet ways to die where the body just doesn’t notice that the heart is gone.

People grew lazy. They knew too many blessings, and so lost the ability to appreciate what they had

You can live without me." "I don't want to." I feared a love like this - that made us incomplete without each other. It was beautiful but treacherous, like snow that looked white and pure and lovely from the safety of your window, but when you stepped out to touch the softness, the cold first stole your breath, and then your will to move, until you could just lay down in it and let the numbness take you. yet I didn't want to be without him either, so I didn't chide him for the statement.

I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.” But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.

He’s worth fighting for, but I won’t change who I am for any man. No more than he should alter himself to suit me.

He's earned a lifetime of peace and happiness, but some people never get what they deserve. That's why there are saints in gutters and sadists in palaces.

So I make no effort to hide my pain. I don’t ever put it all on display like this—but for today and all the rest of the days of the trial, I must. My every flinch, every flicker of pain, will be magnified a hundred times over, then dissected by the pundits and talking heads. But I’m told it’s necessary; the world needs to see me vulnerable and wounded. I cannot appear not to care or to lack remorse, but that removes a crucial component of my self- defense mechanism and leaves me bleeding for all the world to see. I suppose that’s rather the point.

I'll always want him. Until every sun goes dark in every sky, until I am nothing more than long-forgotten cosmic dust, I will want him. And even then I suspect my particles will long for his.

I wanted proof, not promises.

We find heroes, not on battlefields, but in hospitals that tend the injured. Sometimes I think it’s easier to fight than it is to heal.

My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.

Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace, we got Teras incoming?” He levels angry blue eyes on me. “You’re a hex, lady, dark luck, powerful bad juju, ken?” “Only to people who try to kidnap me,” I tell him sweetly, and March snorts, so I feel obliged to add, “Or rescue me…” And then Dina makes a pfft sound. “Or who travel with me…” My gaze sweeps around the darkened interior, trying to find an ally, but nobody will hold my eyes more than two seconds, it seems. “Fine, frag you all, I’m dark juju, bad luck, and you’re all doomed.

In the enclave, the strong and the physically perfect survived, but if you were strong, you protected the weak until they had an opportunity to grow into their own power.

After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.

I never knew I had the power to hurt him, only that he possessed the power to hurt me.

His face held a certain impassivity; you see it in all waiters and valets. They might want to jam a knife through your left eye socket, but you'd never know it from their expression. Working retail, I've acquired a similar look myself.

He is not the same person as when we met, but . . . neither am I. Time has refined us, but instead of pushing us apart, we’re closer than ever.

Every army has a beginning, no matter how humble.

If this is the last time, let me say it so you never forget. I will always love you, Deuce. No matter where souls go, mine will be looking for you, solnyshko moyo." "No. I want a promise instead. Promise you'll fight like you never have, so when the dying stops, you'll be on your feet looking for me here." "I swear.

Sometimes I could almost hate you because you don't understand how much you mean to me, how dark and empty I was before. Solnyshko moyo.

But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.

Most people can’t stomach silence; it provides too much opportunity to think about things they prefer to avoid.

Don’t let them see you weak.

A good huntress respected her partners instincts, even if he was socially ignorant.

I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.

Most people weren’t aware enough to fear the things that could really hurt them.

Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.

It's only a sure defeat when you stop trying.

Through the damp fabric of my coverall, bundled in my blanket, I feel naked. Raw. He sees more than I want, more than I can bear. It’s like standing before him ... while he stares at my scars, pitiless and unmoved.

... Where did you go?” “Down below.” “Ugh,” she said. “I’ve heard they’re little better than animals.” Funny. I thought the same thing about most Topsiders I encountered. Tegan touched my hand in silent sympathy, and I set my jaw. ... I stepped forward and pasted on a false smile. We were in her home, after all. The least I could do was be polite. “I’m Deuce, animal from the underground.

For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.

Dying isn’t like living; it requires no effort at all.

I shake my head, but I can’t change this. I can only bear the scars, as I have always done, as I ever do.

Men can be very stupid. We cease to value what we have until it's gone, and only then do we realize the gold we glimpsed in distant hills pales as dross compared to treasure we had in hand.

Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.

With a polite smile, I decided she was insane.

While sight may deceive you, touch rarely does.

Sometimes I miss the old me.

Each love is unique. Special. Giving to one never takes away from another.

I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.

It’s easy to do right when everything goes right. But let everything go wrong, and see how difficult it becomes.

My heart should be breaking, too, but there comes a point when you’re so inured to loss that you no longer feel the lash.

People stay together and stay true only as long as they both want to. And all the promises in the world don’t change the length of time. Nothing comes with a guarantee.

For peace to take hold, one person must first stop fighting.

As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy’s thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can’t say I’ve heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.

Because it takes more courage to heal the world's hurts than to inflict them.

What was the good of having such a fine home if you weren't willing to fight for it?

Sometimes when you meet someone, there’s a click. I don’t believe in love at first sight but I believe in that click. Recognition.

Each time Stalker called you 'dove', I wanted to hit him. Because you're not a little gray bird... you're all the light in the world.

If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.

Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don't deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true; we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it's not the same as a proper good-bye.

I don’t like anyone knowing anything about me that I didn’t choose to tell them.

Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way; I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.

You ever have that feeling? Like you’ve known someone your whole life but you don’t know them at all.

Sometimes it felt as if all happiness came at a price. You could never, ever, have perfection. Life gave you beauty so you could bear the pain.

I never belonged anywhere until I met you.

But the world moves on, even when you don’t want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops. That’s harsh and magical and somewhat comforting because nothing is immutable, however much we want it to be. Moments cannot be caught like fossils in amber, ever- perfect,ever-beautiful. They go dark and raw, full of shadows, leaving you with the memories. And the world moves on.