Best 33 quotes of Carrie Ryan on MyQuotes

And I realize that's the difference. I realize that I still have everything to lose. The possibility of my sister and Elias and Catcher and my future. I'd lose sunrises and stars and the feel of Catcher's heat against my lips. I'd miss the taste of snow and the smell of the first flower of spring. I'd miss laughing and crying and all the moments in between.

And I wonder if that's what my scars really are: proof that I've put myself back together again.

But she knows, now, there’s no escape from the monsters. They’ll always be there; you just choose to live with them or not.

Caring is a trait of the living. Not of the dead.

Darkness grew where it would and took what it wanted. It staked its claim and never let go. And no one else could pry you free of it.

Did you know that when we were kids Cass used to tell me your stories? She used to laugh at you. Not in a mean way, but in the way that Cass used to laugh at everything before...." He gestures around us at our world now. I shake my head. "I thought Cass never liked my stories. Never remembered them." "Oh yes, I would beg her to tell me if she had new stories from you." "Why didn't you ask me yourself?" I whisper. "Because you were Harry's," he responds. "Not always." "Yes, always," he says. "Always in his eyes," he adds in a softer tone.

Do you still believe that if you truly want something enough it can happen?" I ask. I think of all the times I wanted to stop the world from spinning, all the times I wanted to go back and start over again. All the things I've wanted to undo or take back. Did I not want them enough?

For showing me what I could have been if I hadn't turned cold and dark and hollow.

How many times had it been made clear to Fin that he was alone in this world? That no one else could help him, care for him, be there for him? Every night on the edge of sleep, he closed his yes and thought about finding his mother or learning where he came from or coming downstairs and having the Parsnickles pick him up and spin him around and treat him like a normal kid in a normal family. This despair was nothing new. Every single day, he faced the fear that he would be this way forever and nothing would change, and every single day he beat that fear. He'd bitten down sadness before. He would do it again. Every single day, until he did find his mother, and then he would be a normal kid. He had to be.

I can’t compare the lives I could have lived. One would have been comfort and security. But the other …” She sighs. “It was the most love and the most pain and the most wonder I could have ever known.

I don't understand how I can know so little about love and how it works. How I can be so bad at it when it's all I've ever wanted. All I've ever known is about leaving or being left.

If your friend really cared about you he wouldn't let you take such risks.

I imagine that's what it must have been like to ride the roller coaster back in the before time. One moment teetering at the top, the world laid out before you and the rush of life filling your lungs. . . and then the plummet. The lack of control. That's what I've started to learn about this world. It might give, but it always takes away.

I love you, Mary," he says, and that is when I let the tears come. The great heaving sobs of terror and pain that shake my body until I can do nothing but grab on to Travis to anchor me to this spot. He pulls me toward him and I curl around his body as I weep. I fall into darkness with his fingers trailing through my har, my cheeks still wet and my body heaving.

[In my dream] they slide their lips over my skin, whispering whispering whispering. They tell me their names, they tell me their lives, they tell me their pain...I can't struggle, I can't stop laughing, I can't resist these people who once were.

Is it always about the end and not about the beginning? Is it always about the conclusion and not about the path to it?" ... "I'm tired of paths ... Sometimes they lead nowhere.

I sit with my knees pulled in tight and my arms wrapped around my shins. I can no longer feel my feet, as if blood refuses to spread so far from my heart.

It's funny, most people think that revenge is a passionate affair, driven by rage and pain. But it can't be. Feelings such as those make you weak. They overwrite thought and cause reckless impulses that lead to poor decisions.

It's not about surviving. It should be about love. When you know love...that's what makes this life worth it. When you live with it everyday. Wake up with it, hold on to it during the thunder and after a nightmare. When love is your refuge from the death that surrounds us all and when it fills you so tight that you can't express it.

It’s not always about tomorrow and the day after that—what we achieve over the years and how we leave the world. Sometimes it’s about today.

I will always need you," I whisper. "All of this time I've waited for you. And you were never coming for me. Why did you let me wait for you?

Magic is just potential for creation. It follows no rules and breaks them all

Maybe if she'd invited him into the forest all those years ago, things would have ended differently. But she doubted it. Darkness grew where it would and took what it wanted. It staked its claim and never let go. And no one could pry you free of it.

Not all monsters are filled with darkness.

Not all monsters are filled with darkness.' She wanted him to understand this so badly that her voice trembled. He didn't even hesitate. 'This one is.' She allowed herself a moment to admire Tommy, the way he stood so resolute, like a knight charging after the monster. He just didn't get that this fight wasn't his to wage. 'Exactly so,' she finally said. Of course Tommy would think she talking to him. He exhaled as though relieved and the start of a smile eased the tension around his lips. By the time he realized that she'd spoken the words to someone over his shoulder, it was already too late.

She must face the forest of her mother’s past in order to save herself and the one she loves.

Sometimes it’s the mistakes that turn out to be the best parts of life,

The broken ones need someone to fight for them even harder.

The living used to wonder what happened after death. She said that whole religions were born and evolved around this one simple uncertainty.

Two days ago, the Preserve received a curious visitor. Our logbook shows the signature of a Ms. Notah Reelnaym, hailing from the foreign-sounding port of Nowareneerheer, arriving at 10:00 am on the nose with a child and leaving an hour and three minutes later without one. Log notes indicate that Ms. Reelnaym spent precisely one hour touring the Preserve. Mr. Gubbens, our Chief Orphan Wrangler, reports spending that hour walking around the Preserve alone, loudly explaining Preserve policies to no one for no obvious reason. Remaining three minutes of Ms. Reelnaym’s visit unaccounted for.

What matters is what we do with the life we have.

Who are we if not the stories we pass down? What happens when there's no one left to tell those stories? To hear them? Who will ever know that I existed? What if we are the only ones left -- who will know our stories then? Who will remember those?

You kids take your time," the Naysayer called from above them. "Me an'the oncoming apocalypse will just hang out and get to know each other while we wait.