Best 134 quotes of Michelle Hodkin on MyQuotes

And that for every negative event or coincidence that has happened since, imagining that you triggered them, that you made them happen makes you feel like you possess a degree of control that you don't have.

Boys are stupid and girls are trouble.

But when everyone tells you you're crazy and no one believes you when you swear you aren't, a small part of you will always wonder if they're right.

Do not find peace. Find passion.

Everyone's a little crazy. Some people just hide it better than others.

I feel something, I do it. I want something, I take it.

If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.

I knew one hundred little things about Noah Shaw but when he kissed me I couldn't remember my own name.

I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue than live and never touch you again.

Maybe sometimes we can only see the truth about ourselves if someone shows us where to look.

My name is not Mara Dyer, but my lawyer told me I had to choose something. A pseudonym. A nom de plume, for all of us studying for the SATs. I know that having a fake name is strange, but trust me-it's the most normal thing about my life right now. Even telling you this much probably isn't smart. But without my big mouth, no one would know that a seventeen-year-old who likes Death Cab for Cutie was responsible for the murders. No one would know that somewhere out there is a B student with a body count. And it's important that you know, so you're not next.

You could start a fire with the heat between you two. You're mistaking bitter animosity for heartfelt affection.

You're stronger than you believe. Don't let your fear own you. Own yourself.

All I want is you. You don't have to choose me now or ever, but when you choose, I want you free.

A man knelt before me; he looked familiar but I did not know his name. He withdrew the feather from my cheek and placed it in one of my hands. My thumb caressed the edges. It was so soft. “Show me what is in the other,” he said kindly. I obeyed him. Uncurled my fingers to reveal what was inside. It was Noah’s heart.

And I so badly needed to self-destruct.

And then I’m steered away, flicking a winner’s grin over my shoulder at my girl. It takes a moment to register that I’ve been shuttled into a side corridor cordoned off from the public, filled with some of the many marble busts of past generations of Shaws, casting long shadows that slice the marble floor.

Any minute now . . .”Two seconds later, the sound of an alarm filled my ears.“What did you do?” I said over the noise as he backed up toward the bathroom door.“The girl who gave you the note?”“Yes . . .”“I caught her staring at my lighter.”I blinked. “You gave a child, in a psych ward, a lighter.”His eyes crinkled at the corners. “She seemed trustworthy.”“You’re sick,” I said, but smiled.“Nobody’s perfect.” Noah smiled back.

Anyway, there's some fuckery afoot, clearly, but I don't think you're possessed.

Apparently she judged the souls of the dead by weighing their hearts against a feather; if she deemed a soul unworthy, it was sent to the underworld to be consumed—by this bizarre crocodile-lion-hippopotamus creature, it seems.

Are you going to draw?” “Nope.” “Shame. I was going to ask you to do me like one of your French girls.

Are you mad at me too?” My voice sounded dead. “Mad at you?” He seemed surprised by the question. “No,” he finally said. “I’m not mad at you.” But he was still standing there, looking at me in a way I couldn’t describe but didn’t like. “Then what?” “I’m scared of you,” he said, and left the room.

Asscrown," I muttered under my breath as I headed to my next class. I wasn't proud of swearing at a complete stranger, no. but he started it. Noah matched my pace. "Don't you mean 'assclown'?" He looked amused. "No," I said, louder this time. "I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses," I said, as though I was reading from a dictionary of modern profanity. "I guess you nailed me then.

Before I could say anything, Jamie began writing giant letters over the words with his index finger. F-U-C-K Y-O-U. My sentiments exactly.

— Come fai ad avere il mio numero? — sbottai prima di riuscire a trattenermi.— Si chiama indagare. — Sentivo il sorrisetto compiaciuto perfino attraverso il telefono.— O anche molestare

Does anyone know how to start a fire?" Blank stares. "So we can't start a fire," [Jamie] said. "We can't fly. We can't create a force field. We are the most bullshit superheroes.

Don't find peace. Find passion.

Don't you mean 'assclown'?" he looked amused. "No," I said louder this time. "I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses.

Fate is bullshit. Destiny doesn't exist. If I want a happy ending, I'll have to write it myself.

For some reason I think of the first time I saw her, kicking the shit out of the vending machine that refused to release her candy. Before that day, every hour of my life had been exactly like the one before it. Relentlessly boring. Painfully monotonous. But then she walked out of my waking nightmare and into my life, a complete mystery from Second One. Her presence was a problem I needed to solve, a problem that finally interested me. And then, somehow, she made me interested in myself. Mara began as a question I needed to answer, but the longer I'd known her, the less I felt I actually knew. She was constantly surprising, infinitely complex. Unknowable. Unpredictable. I have never met anyone more fascinating in my life, and all the time in the world wouldn't be enough to ever know her.

For the lost boys, and the girls who find them.

Hai qualche ferita" disse, scostandomi i capelli.Spostai lo sguardo e vidi la sua schiena riflessa nello specchio sopra il lavabo. Mi chiesi cosa potesse significare “qualche ferita” quando ti è crollato addosso un edificio.

Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly. His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption." Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?" "No." "Not many girls? Or not many boys?" "Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would. "How many?" "Why—" "I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?" My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One." At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear. "He was doing it wrong.

Have you made any other friends since we've been here?" I gave him the death stare. "Yes, actually." "Who? I want a name." "Jamie Roth." "The Ebola kid? I heard he's a little unstable." "That was one incident.

He could never use you. You own him. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at you while you were out.” I smiled a little. “How?” “Like you’re the ocean and he’s desperate to drown.

He didn't look like the same person who picked me up this morning. Noah--sarcastic, distant, untouchable Noah--cared. And that made him real.

He shrugged. “I have a stomach thing. Don’t get close.” “Well, now you’ve spoiled everything,” I said casually, working hard to fake it. “I was planning to seduce you in the broom closet.” I pointed. “Right there.” A joyless smile appeared on Jamie’s lips. “We are far too screwed-up for a goddamned love triangle.” That’s my Jamie.

He was beautiful. And he was smiling at me.

How are we supposed to get in?” Stella kicked the metal shutter. “Fool of a Took!” Jamie hissed through his teeth. “If someone’s in there, they probably heard that.

How is it that you have friends, Noah?" "I ask myself that daily" He chomped down on the plastic straw. "Seriously. Inquiring minds want to know." Noah's brow creased, but he stared straight ahead. "I guess I don't." "Could've fooled me." "Wouldn't be difficult." That stung. "Go to hell," I said quietly. "Already there," Noah said calmly, pulling out the straw from his mouth and chucking it to the floor.

I didn’t know enough to hold myself back. Now I was too aware, hyperaware, and so the fear chained me.

I'd wasted so much time wishing I could be different, wishing I could change things, change myself...I thought it would be easier to be someone else than to be who I was becoming, but I didn't think that anymore

I feel like I'm going to catch hepatitis just standing here.

If you fight yourself, you will lose, and fighting leaves scares.

I hate you," I muttered. Noah smiled wider. "I know.

I kind of want to see Mara Crucio their asses.

I kiss the inside of each knee and up, farther, the roughness of my cheek raising redness on her skin.

I know what I can do to a girl with a word, a look, a touch. And I want to do them all to her.

I'll be gentle," Noah added. My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me from beneath those lashes, ruining me. "You're evil." "And you're mine.

I'll love you to ruins.