Best 228 quotes of Alexandra Bracken on MyQuotes

Try again, I've gotten much better at detecting your bullshit

We aren't friends.

We have learned that life is one journey, and the purpose is not to reach some treasure at the end of it, but to find the courage to decide which paths to take, who to travel with, and to let things fall into place as they should and will.

We used our minds like weapons clenched tightly in our fists, struggling to return them back to their holsters without injuring ourselves in the process.

...what does the future look like?...'A deep blue, fading into golds and reds-like fire on a horizon. Afterlight. It's a sky that wants you to guess if the sun is about to rise or set.

What good is honour when greed eats away at its foundations?

What?" he whispered. "What are you smiling about?" My fingers brushed against his hair, trying to smooth it down. I realized what I was doing a full minute after Liam had closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. Embarrassment flared up my chest, but he grabbed my hand before I could pull back and tucked it under his chin. "Nope," he whispered, when I tried to tug it away. "Mine now." Dangerous. This is dangerous. The warning was fleeting, banished to the back corners of my mind, where it wouldn't interrupt how good it felt to touch him - how right. "I'm going to need it back eventually," I said, letting him run it along the stubble on his chin. "Too bad." "...crackers..." a voice breathed out behind us, "yessss..." Both of us turned, watching as Chubs twisted around in his seat and settled back down, still fast asleep. I pressed a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. Liam rolled his eyes, smiling. "He dreams about food," he said. "A lot." "At least they're good dreams." "Yeah," Liam agreed. "I guess he's lucky.

What I'm trying to get at is, as bad as everything seems, I think, at its heart, life is good. It doesn't throw anything at us that it knows we can't handle–and, even if it takes time, it turns everything right side up again...

What mattered was that these beliefs had swept through the souls of everyone else like a plague. He couldn't see the end of it. Even a hundred years in the future, he knew, the roots still had not been fully pulled up from society. Wherever, whenever he went, the color of his skin set the boundaries of what he could achieve, and there was very little--if any--recourse for finding a way around it.

What?” The word exploded out of me. “What do you want me to tell you? You want to hear about how they tied us up like animals to bring us into the camp—or, hey! How about that time a PSF once beat in a girl’s skull so badly she actually lost an eye? You want to know what it was like to drink rotten water for an entire summer until new pipes finally came? How I woke up afraid and went to bed in terror every single day for six years? For God’s sake, leave me alone! Why do you always have to dig and dig when you know I don’t want to talk about it?

What was the point of being holed up with someone who didn't believe in me when I had people out there who did?

When a girl cries, few things are more worthless than a boy." -Ruby, The Darkest Minds

When I caught up to him again, my fingers closed around the soft, loose leather of his jacket’s sleeve. At the slightest tug, Liam turned, his blue eyes lit up in surprise. I took a step back and pulled my hand back to my side, shocked at myself. It had felt natural to do it—I hadn’t been thinking at all, only feeling a very sharp, real need to be close to him.

When it came to adults, it was better not to talk. They had a way of hearing one thing and processing it as something else. No reason to give them an excuse to hurt you.

Who could be satisfied with seeking out the four corners of one small world, when there was the whole of time to be had?

Who sent you?” O’Ryan asked. “What was your purpose here?” “To...to tell you...” The words didn’t sound nearly as furious coming out of my mouth as they did in my head. The camp controller leaned forward, eyes narrowing into slits. “To go...fuck yourself.

Would you like me to go take that violin for you? I'd gladly fight whatever angry mob rises up if it might make you smile.

Yep, she called to me from the parking lot of abandoned cars. The sun was shining though her windows like a beacon of hope." Chubs groaned. "Why are you so weird?" "Because my weird has to be able to cancel out your weird, Lady Cross-stitch.

Yes, well”—he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose delicately—“the burner phone we had accidentally fell out of the car, and someone accidentally backed over it. Because someone was in a rush after she accidentally alerted some skip tracers we were nearby when she accidentally used her abilities to move a light pole out of the road after she had accidentally backed into it.” “Someone better shut their mouth before I accidentally slam my fist into their teeth.” She punched his shoulder, and it was almost...playful. “Shut his mouth, fist into his teeth.” “Really? A grammar lesson?

You are actually the worst person I have ever met,” Chubs said. “And people like you are the reason we have middle fingers.

You are your abilities and they are you. I can't put it to you more plainly. Do you know why I hate this cure? It's a statement that what we are is inherently wrong. It's a punishment for something that isn't our fault - all because they can't control their fear about what we can do, anymore than they can control their resentment that there are people out there stronger and more powerful than they are. They want to strip you of yourself - your ability to protect and enforce your right to make decisions about your life. Your own body. Mark my words: in the end, it won't be a choice. They'll decide this for you.

You can come see me for a visit anytime. It's like how the song goes: I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places. . .

You'd be surprised how little voice you have when you lose everything.

You had day-of-the-week underwear growing up, didn't you?

You just have to accept the things that are out of your hands and try to take care of yourself. That's your job.

You mean this research?

You really didn’t have White Noise? Calm Control?” I demanded, surprised by the anger licking at my heart. What camp had these kids been in? Candy Land?

You're missing the point. It's not that I believe in what Lee's saying; it's that I hope he's right. I really, really hope he's right, because what's the alternative?