Best 70 quotes in «carry on quotes» category

And her mother says I’m handsome. That’s really all her mum ever says to me. “Don’t you look handsome, Simon.” What would she say to Baz? “Don’t you look handsome, Basil. Please don’t slaughter my family with your hideous fangs.

Agatha’s mum gives me nice clothes for Christmas, and her dad talks to me about my future like I’m not going to die in a ball of fire.

And I’m hopelessly in love with him.

And sometimes holes want to get bigger, but Baz was wrong—sometimes they just want to be filled.

Does it have to be fatal every time? The biting? Couldn't you just drink some of a person's blood, then walk away?" "I can't believe you're asking me this, Snow. You, who can't walk away from half a sandwich.

A smile will go the mile, while a frown will take you down.

At Watford, Magic is just the air we breathe. It's not what separates us from each other; it's what keeps us together.

Being with you is like clinging to a sinking raft instead of learning how to swim

Beyond the picket fences and the oil wells, the happy endings, and the fairy tales, is the reality of shattered lives and broken dreams. We carry on.

Enough, Snow, I'm not the Queen.

Even when lightning flashes inside them... we say they are only clouds and turn our attention to the next meal, next pain, next breath, the next page. This is how we go on.

Even when lightning flashes inside them [clouds], we say they are only clouds and turn our attention to the next meal, next pain, next breath, the next page. This is how we go on.

Has there always been someone like me to bury the bodies, to have regrets, to carry on after everyone else was dead?

Fakir, off!

He also says I tried to throw him down a flight of stairs that year. Really, we were fighting at the top of the staircase, and I got in a lucky punch that sent him flying. Then, when my aunt Fiona asked me if I’d pushed Simon Snow down a flight of stairs, I said, “Fuck yes I did.

He cocks an eyebrow and stares at me, like figuring out what's wrong with me is something he'll never have enough time for.

He's not a monster. He's just a villain. He's not a villain. He's just a boy. I'm kissing a boy. I'm kissing Baz.

He swallows. Snow has the longest neck and the showiest swallow I've ever seen. His chin juts out and his Adam's apple catches - it's a whole scene.

He shakes his head, and he's saying something, and I think I might kiss him. Because I've never kissed anyone before. (I was afraid I might bite.) And I've never wanted to kiss anyone but him. (I won't bite. I won't hurt him.) I just want to kiss him, then go. "Simon...," I say. And then he kisses me.

He was always more good than bad. He's still more good than bad, I think. It just goes to show how much of both a person can hold.

He's still looking in my eyes. Staring me down like he did that dragon, chin tilted and locked. "I'm not the Chosen One," he says. I meet his gaze and sneer. My arm is a steel band around his waist. "I choose you," I say. "Simon Snow, I choose you.

How can you be like this?' I whisper. 'How can you even trust me, after everything?' 'I'm not sure I do trust you,' he whispers back. He reaches out with his other hand and touches my stomach. I feel it drop to the floor. (My stomach, that is.) 'But...' He shrugs. He's rubbing my stomach, and I close my eyes-because it feels good. (So good.) And also because I want him to kiss me again.

If you find yourself engaged in an argument that only stirs anger in the heart, quickly make peace and carry on.

But—I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to carry on. As I am.

I let myself slip away... Just to stay sane. Just to get through it. And when I felt myself slipping too far, I held on to the one thing I'm always sure of - Blue eyes. Bronze curls. The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive. That nothing can hurt him, not even me. That Simon Snow is alive. And I'm hopelessly in love with him.

I know I usually come down here to tell you I’m sorry. But I think today I want to tell you that I’m going to be all right. Don’t let me be one of the things that keeps you from peace, Mother. I’m all right.

I'm going to die kissing Simon Snow

Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in for me!

Is it too much?" "No. It's like you completed the circuit," I say, gripping his other hand. "I feel kind of drunk, though." "Drunk on power?" he asks. I giggle. "Shit, Snow. Stop talking. This is embarrassing.

Is it that important? Wouldn’t it be more important to teach the least powerful? To help them make the most of what they do have? Should we teach only poets to read?

I can tell she still finds me both loathsome and distasteful, but Rome wasn't built on mutual admiration.

It's always fire with Baz. I can't believe he hasn't incinerated me yet. Or burned me at the stake.

It’s Baz they’re checking out, not me. He’s got to be scared, or at least nervous, but he doesn’t look it. I swear he gets less ruffled the more that he’s threatened. (When I’m the one threatening him, that’s infuriating. But it’s kind of cool now.)

It's the good things that hurt when you're missing them.

It's unnecessarily grandiose to use an Open Sesame on the doors, but I do it anyway because I know everyone will be in the dining hall, and I may as well make an entrance.

It is madness. But sometimes, madness is the only path forward.

[Martin Hellman:] Unless you're foolish enough to be continually excited, you won't have the motivation, you won't have the energy to carry it through.

It was a good weekend. Five thousand words of Carry On. Fish tacos with radish and shredded cabbage. Only two more conversations about Wren. And Sunday afternoon brought Levi back, taking her front steps two at a time.

I wind my fingers in his hair. It's thicker than mine, and curlier, and it shines golden in the firelight. There's a mole on his cheek that I've wanted to kiss since I was 12. I do.

Penny grabs my arm when I walk past Baz’s bed on the way to the bathroom. “It’s good to see you,” she whispers. I smile. Again. Penny makes my cheeks hurt. “Don’t make a scene,” I whisper back.

My dad loves marriage rites. Any sort of family magic, actually. He and my mother are bound together in five dimensions.’ ‘That’s lovely,’ Baz says, and I’m terrified because I think he means it.

Penny sets down her book. “You don’t want to know why your girlfriend was snogging your sworn enemy?” “I don’t know about ‘sworn,’ ” I say. “I’ve never taken an oath.” “I’m pretty sure Baz has.” “Anyway, they weren’t snogging.” Penny shakes her head. “If I caught Micah holding hands with Baz, I’d want an explanation.” “So would I.” “Simon.

Right. So I didn’t tell her. Now, where do we start?” His face falls into a pout. “I was counting on Bunce to tell us where to start.” “Let’s start with what we know,” I say. That’s where Penelope always starts. “Right.” Baz actually seems nervous. He’s tapping the chalk against his trouser leg, leaving white smudges.

It’s impolite to stare, you know, even at your friends.” “Are we friends?” I asked her. More surprised than anything else. “I’m helping you with your lesson, aren’t I?” She was. She’d just helped me shrink a football to the size of a marble. “I thought you were helping me because I’m thick,” I said. “Everyone’s thick,” she replied. “I’m helping you because I like you.

Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire. He's constantly drawing you in. And you're constantly stepping too close. And you know it's not good--that there is no good--that there's absolutely nothing that can ever come of it. But you do it anyway. And then... Well. Then you burn.

Simon Snow is still going to die kissing me. Just not today.

Rome wasn't built on mutual admiration.

Someday I will succeed in my dream. Someday I will overcome my fears. As for me in this current moment though, I must just carry on.

sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone are the dead rattling the walls that close us in.

Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer... I know that face as well as my own.