Best 28 of Teen angst quotes - MyQuotes
She smells like spring and flowers and rain, even though it’s winter. Sometimes, he thinks he loves her so much that his mind is unable to distinguish between love and obsession. Which is worse?
With adolescent Nietzscheanism, she already planned to escape on the world's reversals from the sense of suffocation that seemed to her to be eclipsing her family, her sisters, and mother. She, she told herself, would move brightly along high places and stop to trespass and admire, and if the fine was a heavy one—well, there was no good in saving up beforehand to pay it. Full of these presumptuous resolves, she promised herself that if, in the future, her soul should come starving and crying for bread it should eat the stone she might have to offer without complaint or remorse. Relentlessly she convinced herself that the only thing of any significance was to take what she wanted when she could. She did her best.
Words have power, and sometimes, they stay with you for life. It’s up to you to allow those words to define who you become.
If the one who gave me life wants the real me to die... then all I can do is die.
When I feel myself slipping to the darkness of my past, I’ll close my eyes and remember this. Remember Jackson.
We don’t have time for all this personal drama.” My eyes flit between Logan, Haydn, and Ax. “And it’s not fair on the others. The atmosphere is horrendous because of what’s going on between us. And I’m so tired of it. All of it.” I take a step back. “I’m not discussing this anymore, with any of you.” I glare at the three boys. “So sort your shit out, and get your act together. Until then,” I say, turning around. “Leave me the hell alone.
And it occurred to me; I was not part of the action. Oh God, I thought, I'm not an anthropologist. I'm the lonely voice-over narrator of adolescence. The bitter, voice-over voice.
I just wanted..." Aaron stepped closer. "To kiss you good-bye," he finished for Greg.
Creativity is the catalyst to the future.
Before she closed the door, she hit me with this one: "I feel like it's November first," she said, "and I'm that discarded jack-o'-lantern whose heart and guts are splattered all over the boulevard of broken promises." "And a good night to you, too," I said.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that you had taken something of mine. Something you had no right to. It’s lingered over the years, that all-consuming feeling. And I feel it now. What are you hiding, Axton? What do you have that’s mine?”
Rushing to my side, he palms my face before I can protest. “That’s exactly the issue, though. You don’t know your own mind. It’s full of the secrets of your past, and instead of trying to understand that, you are charging pig-headed down the wrong path.
Whatever you do, don’t feel sorry for me. I know it’s the best you can do. Life hasn’t hit you in your perfect little bubble yet. Please don’t try to understand. Nobody can. No one knows what it’s like to be me, except others like me. You’re making me pissed. You’re making me feel bad. Stop reminding me that I have no life. I don’t care about your prom. Yes, I know I haven’t talked to you in a while. NO, I’m not ignoring you, but it’s not exactly like you’ve been calling me either. I just haven’t been feeling well lately. I’m tired and my body is aching all over. It’s hurting all the time. I can barely move when it rains, and some days I just don’t want to do anything. SHUT UP.
Old people only say that life happens quickly to make themselves feel better. The truth is that it all happens in tiny increments like now now now now now now and it only takes twenty to thirty consecutive nows to realize that you’re aimed straight at a bench in Singleton Park. Fair play though, if I was old and had forgotten to do something worthwhile with my life, I would spend those final few years on a bench in the botanical gardens, convincing myself that time is so quick that even plants – who have no responsibilities whatsoever – hardly get a chance to do anything decent with their lives except, perhaps, produce one or two red or yellow flowers and, with a bit of luck and insects, reproduce. If the old man manages to get the words father and husband on his bench plaque then he thinks he can be reasonably proud of himself.
I never thought I was capable of writing a whole book until Ursula K. Le Guin, with whom I worked briefly in publishing, said, 'you already wrote one (referencing a screenplay), you just need to add the details.
People come to New Orleans to forget themselves and party like a pagan. They gorge themselves on exotic spicy foods and five to seven course meals, taking hours to consume. They behave badly in bars and routinely encourage their willing female counterparts to flash their tits for cheap plastic beads. Beads women would never wear anywhere else but in New Orleans become triumphant symbols of one’s insatiable allure.
And I kind of like the Teen Rebels; they seem to be better than the Bullying Trio. Still, watch your backs, rebels!
Haydn lets out a low whistle. “You’re a real piece of work.” “It’s okay,” I say, turning to face him. “I got the memo.” He arches a brow. “The one that says you hate my guts. There’s no need to rub it in.
How would Elijah ever understand a life that is dark more than light? Or a shadow of someone who follows her around, and when she least expects it, taps her on the back and asks, where are you going, Seraphina?
One honorable young man can make all the difference...
I sigh contentedly as I close my eyes, allowing his body heat to warm me. Even though I’ve had an amazing time on our date, this is the highlight of my day. I’ve always been more of a simple pleasures kind of girl. Which isn’t me saying I’m ungrateful for everything he did today. Today was magical, and I will remember it for the rest of my life, but I don’t need grand gestures from Kal. I just need him.
Sui prati scoscesi volavano bassi i corvi, deformi, va na gloriosi, crudeli. Li avevi paragonati alla nostra adolescenza, mentre cercavano, nella terra intorno al collegio, dove mettere gli artigli.
This is closest we'll ever be. This is our escape. Our secret closet, our letter of invitation to Hogwarts, our death-star run. After this we're back to the real world, and from there the hill slopes down and only stops at six feet under.
Ax.” Sadie is breathless as she caresses the angular lines of my face. “I love you so much. You’re my whole world. You know that, right?
I’m not the damsel in distress. I’m the villain. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes this.
We do not want to be told what we know. We do not want to call things by their names, although we're willing to call one another bad ones. We call meanness nobility and hatred honor. The way to make yourself a hero is to make me out a scoundrel. You won't admit that either, but it's true.
And when desperation leads you into a rotting pit of self-inflicted torture, you are left with nothing but the acknowledgment that desperation played you for a fool.
I jumped in the mosh pit, and some kid punched me in the chin, so I swung on ceiling pipes and kicked people in the head.