Best 45 quotes of Jaclyn Moriarty on MyQuotes

3:12 pm Secretly, I admit, I find many of my classmates annoying. I've often thought to myself, 'Good grief, these people are five-year-olds. Why must I spend my days among them?' But have I ever said such things aloud? No. I have been nothing but generous to them, and kept these thoughts to myself. And how have they repaid me? Have they been grateful or kind? Ho NO!

...a choice had to be made when your husband said something unkind. Specifically: be cruel, be strong, or sulk. 'Be cruel' by saying an unkind thing back. 'Be strong' by choosing not to mind. But to do this, you have to use up a piece of your love. You have to shave off enough of the love to forgive. After a while, the piece might grow back, but sometimes not. And if you shave off all the soft curves, you'll be left with a sharp-edged love. 'Sulk' by sulking. Sulking is simply delaying the choice to be cruel or strong.

and if we can change things that have already happened if those planes can fly in uneasy formation if that splinter moon can blow away the shadows then anything, anything at all.

And she looks at me with her eyes open wide and a face that says: Oh my God, I'm muckin' around in my sexy Jesus-boots, in my crazy dreamworld, and I've opened the door and let you in on my crazy dreamworld and that's so embarrassing but, actually, who cares? because it's funny.

Are you sure you want me to go after Christina? Lately I've kind of thought I might just give up on that. Plus, didn't you and I need to gaze into each other's eyes first? How will I know how to gaze at Christina? And my pebble kicking? Disaster.

Brookfield High School. How may I direct your call? No, sir, this is not a waste- disposal unit, I'm afraid you have the wrong number.

Dear Complete and Utter Stranger, The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal? Say you would even think about eating the oatmeal? Well, JUST DON'T BOTHER WRITING TO ME, OKAY?

Emily said ... Well, I read that it's important to sleep. While you sleep, the hippopotamus in your brain replays things that happend during the day, e.g. what you studied. So therefore it remembers it for you.

Emily: YOU CAN'T SPEAK AND TYPE AT THE SAME TIME, BINDY! Bindy: Watch me.

Her skin is pale as watermelon sucked free of its juices.

...Her parents were going to a conference for the weekend. The conference was called "Lawyers are Lovely, Great and Superb: so Why Does Everyone Think that They are Liars, Greedy and Scum?" and Mr Thomson was doing a speech called "Ten Tips to Make Lawyers as Popular as Doctors.

I hate those TV shows where characters talk about one thing, such as their patient on the operation table (let's say they're a doctor), then you realize they're actually talking about actually talking about themselves. The patient's open-heart surgery is nothing compared to their own messed-up heart or whatever. It's selfish. And means they're not concentrating, which is medical negligence.

I hope you feel better today. Please ring me at work if you are dead.

I love her bare legs from a distance. When she's standing by a pool. When she's facing the water, thinking. Her legs are white as watermelon rind, veined blue from cold. There's that 'H' shape behind her knees. The H trembles softly with the swimming-water cold.

I'm screwed up, mixed up, messed around, dive-bombing, crashing and burning.

I saw your name in lights last night. It's the middle of the night, and I can't sleep, thinking all my trumpeting thoughts, and I get out of bed, open the curtains, and look into the night full of stars, and you know what I saw? Your name. Like the stars joined up and spelled the word for me. Like a sign.

It's a vicious cycle. It's like a washing machine with the lid jammed down. -Christina Kratovac (pg 53)

I've been sniffing out the guys in my English class (to the extent that this is possible without getting my throat cut), but they smell the same way they always do: like feet and testicles. As opposed to freesias. I don't want to keep sniffing them, Lyd. - Letter from Seb to Lyd.

My father, I never knew, except for this one time when he threw a ball and told me to go fetch it. "Dad," I said. "Am I a dog?" "Lydia," he said. "I apologize.

P.P.S. AND YOU CAN TALK. "Just say the word." JUST SAY THE WORD? What kind of expression is that? WHAT WORD WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SAY ANYWAY? MORON? Letter from Emily to Charles.

The Irish people didn't get on that well with each other either. They hated the Catholics, was the main issue, as I see. You can't blame them for that. If I understand correctly, Catholics do not believe in contraception. So, you know, sex is not relaxing.

THERE IS A GAS LEAK IN THE BASEMENT OF THE SCHOOL. THERE IS NO NEED TO PANIC. IT IS JUST A GAS LEAK WHICH MAY LEAD TO AN EXPLOSION AT ANY MOMENT. PLEASE ALL GO TO THE OVAL, AS PER THE FIRE DRILLS. -Charlie on the P.A.

This is what I want you all to do. I want you to open a new document and type up a list of three problems in your life. Not the universe's life - your own. Underneath, type the solutions." "If we know the solutions," said Belle, "they're not problems." "Exactly," said Denny. "You do know the answers to most of your problems. Somewhere deep inside, you know.

What does it mean?" Emily said, in a low, panicked voice: "What does it mean if a rainbow comes before rain?

You do know the answers to most of your problems. Somewhere deep inside, you know.

You're making me nervous by being so weird. But your weirdness is what I like about you.

And everywhere I turned: Riley and Amelia. I suppose this could have been because I was always following them around.

And then something happened. It was a fragment of time, a breath of time. It was like being in a car in pouring rain and driving under an overpass, and for just that second there is a profound, powerful sense of reprieve- the utter silence of non-rain.

Distance is the journey. Displacement is the result.

Do you think there could be a universe next door?

… Farrell Kafji, who complained loudly that he had landed in the middle of a seventeenth-century field. ‘And fields then are exactly like fields right now!’ he shouted. ‘I could’ve gone down to Forsyth Park if I wanted to see a field!

How about we meet at midnight tomorrow and try this. I close my eyes, believe in you, and there you'll be.

I feel like people are always speaking with their eyes, their bodies, their hands, gestures, intonation, and their words - only mostly all we hear are the words. And the words get in the way. So if we just spoke with our eyes we might get closer to the truth.

It's tricky being shy. You blame yourself for it, and other people blame you too.

She's always getting into trouble because she gets bored really really easily. [...] My mum says it's because Celia has an attention span the size of a sesame seed. Celia's mum says it's because Celia's identity is unfurling itself slowly, like a tulip bud, and it's a breathtakingly beautiful thing to see.

Sure and you've got to keep your own spitis up, for there's no one else will do that for you!

There was something in the moonlight tonight. It was stroking the stonework and spires, leaning into cracks between the cobblestones, caressing the stained-glass windows. She felt her heart lift with magic.

The world is made of more than particles. It's made of things you can't hold in your hand, like fear, love, loss, hope, truth.

t was beautiful, being there with Elliott. It was like there was nothing except him and me. I remember his palms, his chest, his chin, but it was like we were more than just our bodies. As if our essence was there in the darkness.

We forgive our friends their darkness and focus on their light. Assuming the light returns. If it doesn’t, well, the friend must want to sleep, so shut the door and leave them to it.

Well, first you have to be very, very funny. I have realized that it is essential for a boy to be funny. Otherwise, what is the point in a boy?

Well, this might sound stupid but I think he was my best friend. Like the other half of me. I'm so scared something might have happened to him when he went back. I miss him so much sometimes I look at windows and I want to just walk right through them -- like press myself through the glass. I want their sharp edges to fragment me.

We stop at the door. I’m still smiling. ‘Well, bye,’ Noah says. ‘Don’t call us! We’ll call you!’ I say to Noah. And I shoot the air with cowboy guns. Noah blinks.

When she got back from taking Cassie to school Fancy knew that she ought to be working on her wilderness romance. She had promised thirty thousand words to her editor by tomorrow, and she had only written eleven. Specifically: His rhinoceros smelled like a poppadom: sweaty, salty, strange and strong. Her editor would cut that line.

Who knows if all our brains are inventing the same thing? I mean, how do we know that the thing YOUR eyes see and call "red" is the same thing that I call "red"?