Best 70 quotes in «carry on quotes» category

And I’m hopelessly in love with him.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

Fakir, off!

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

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 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 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'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.

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.

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.

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

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

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 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'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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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 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.

[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.

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 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.

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.

Rome wasn't built on mutual admiration.

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.

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.

So . . . ,” she says, following him to the chalkboard. “You got a Visiting. An actual Visiting—Natasha Grimm-Pitch was here.” Baz glances back over his shoulder. “You sound impressed, Bunce.” “I am,” Penelope says. “Your mother was a hero. She developed a spell for gnomeatic fever. And she was the youngest headmaster in Watford history.” Baz is looking at Penny like they’ve never met. “And,” Penny goes on, “she defended your father in three duels before he accepted her proposal.” “That sounds barbaric,” I say. “It was traditional,” Baz says. “It was brilliant,” Penny says. “I’ve read the minutes.” “Where?” Baz asks her. “We have them in our library at home,” she says. “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. “I’m going to make time stop when I propose to Micah,” she says. “The little American? With the thick glasses?” “Not so little anymore.” “Interesting.” Baz rubs his chin. “My mother hung the moon.” “She was a legend,” Penelope beams. “I thought your parents hated the Pitches,” I say. They both look at me like I’ve just stuck my hand in the soup bowl. “That’s politics,” Penelope says. “We’re talking about magic.” “Obviously,” I say. “What was I thinking.” “Obviously,” Baz says. “You weren’t.” “What’s happening right now?” I say. “What are we even doing?” Penelope folds her arms and squints at the chalkboard. “We,” she declares, “are finding out who killed Natasha Grimm-Pitch.” “The legend,” Baz says. Penelope gives him a soft look, the kind she usually saves for me. “So she can rest in peace.

That's what I came back to tell you. I loved you before I met you, and I loved you more the moment I held you. And I never meant to leave you so soon. I never would have left you. Simon, Simon. My rosebud boy.

The first time I came back to Watford, my second year, I climbed right into my bed and cried like a baby. I was still crying when Baz came in. “Why are you already weeping?” he snarled. “You’re ruining my plans to push you to tears.

There are going to be times in life when no matter how hard or what we try, we’ll never get back what it was we’ve lost. All we can do is pick up the pieces we have left. To move ahead, to carry on. We just have to try.

There are pages ripped out and taped all over one wall. (Not taped - stuck to the wall with spells.) (And this is exactly the sort of thing I'm sick of. Like, just use some tape. Why come up with a spell for sticking paper to the wall? Tape. Exists.)