Best 21 quotes of Hannah Harrington on MyQuotes

And even if we did, which we didn't, it's none of your business." "Okay." "I just wanted you to know." "Okay." "If you say okay one more time, I'm going to punch you in the solar plexus." His eyebrows jump. "The solar plexus, huh?" "Yes," I say. "I'm not exactly sure where that is, but I will find out. And then I will punch you there. Hard.

Awesome." "Awesome squared." "Awesome cubed." "Awesome to the power of infinity." "The square root of awesome is-" "-Asha." We finish at the same time and laugh.

Everything on the radio is crap...It's fast food for your ears. It doesn't make you think. It isn't even about anything - not anything real. Don't you think music should say something?

Hate is easy, but love takes courage

I don't know what I believe anymore. If God does exist, then He's just an asshole, creating this world full of human suffering and letting all these terrible things happen to good people, and sitting there and doing nothing about it. At June's memorial service, a few people came up to me and said some really stupid things, like how everything happens for a reason, and God never gives us more than we can handle. All I could think was, does that mean if I was a weaker person, this never would've happened? Am I seriously supposed to buy that June's death was part of some stupid divine plan? I don't believe that. I can't. It just doesn't make sense.

If you really want things to change, you can make them change no matter where you are.

I guess that’s the thing about riding on cloud nine—it can’t last forever. And that particular fall was hard and fast.

I love the way he says my name, like it’s something he wants to keep safe.

I'm not saying he was, like, crying tears of man pain over the phone, but he sounded upset.

I’m still the same Chelsea Knot. Bow down, bitches.

In some ways I admire Aunt Helen's unwavering certainty in God's divine plan. It must be comforting, to have faith like that. To believe so concretely that there's someone—something—out there watching guard, keeping us safe, testing us only with what we can handle. I've never believed in anything the way Aunt Helen believes in God.

It always struck me in years after how bizarre it was, how two people could look at one another with such tenderness and complete love, and how quickly that could dissolve into nothing but bitterness.

It feels weird, being out in the real world again. Around people just living their lives like normal. Their presence is oppressive. The very fact that the world is going on as usual, like nothing ever happened, makes me want to scream. I know it's irrational to expect everything to grind to a halt because of June, but still. A wave of anxiety builds in my chest, my head pounding so loud it drowns out the noise of people talking and tapping away on their laptops.

Listen, Harper. I realize how hard this is for you." A flash of anger heats up in my chest. She doesn't understand. She can't. If she did, she'd leave me alone instead of trying to force me to talk about this.

Maybe Laney's right. Maybe June did love me. But I'm far less certain that she knew I loved her. Did she realise how much I needed her around? It's not like I ever told her. I was too wrapped up in my own world to notice what was going on in hers. Even if she did know, it wasn't enough to count. It wasn't enough to make her stay. So really, what did it matter, in the end? The bottom line is, it's my fault. I didn't love her enough. I didn't do enough. I wasn't enough. There's no excuse. There is nothing that will ever make that okay.

My life is now divided into two periods: With June and After June. I can't wrap my mind around the idea of it.

That hate is easy, but sometimes love is easy too.

The house is eerily quiet. All this time I thought silence would be a welcome reprieve, but it's less comforting than I imagined. The house feels so much bigger and colder than it ever has.

These songs tell me I'm not alone. If you look at it that way, music...music can see you through anything.

You know, just because you think bubblegum pop on the radio represents all that is wrong with society, that doesn’t mean there’s not someone out there who needs that shitty pop song. Maybe that shitty pop song makes them feel good, about themselves and the world. And as long as that shitty pop song doesn’t infringe upon your rights to rock out to, I don’t know, Subway Sect, or Siouxsie and the Banshees, or whichever old-ass band it is you worship, then who cares?

You know, the husband, John Bobbit, he formed a band after that whole thing. The Severed Parts," I tell him. "I'm pretty sure he did a lot of porn, too." Jake just lies there, staring at me. The teasing in his eyes has been replaced with a serious, assessing look. "What?" I say. God, boys are weird. "How did you know that?" he asks. He actually sounds impressed. "It's called the internet. You might try living in the twenty-first century sometime," I mumble.