Best 70 quotes in «carry on quotes» category

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.)

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.

The way you were before… Simon Snow, there wasn’t a day when I believed we’d both live through it.“ “Though what?” “Life. You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I’d wake up every morning and think, ‘This will end in flames.

They can stop a river by building a dam, but I will be damned if they can stop my river of blood flowing through my veins and heart.

The whole prophecy is bollocks," I say. "'And one will come to end us. And one will bring his fall.' Did I also bring my own fall?" "No," Baz says. "That was me. Obviously." "How did you bring my fall? I stopped the Humdrum myself." Baz looks back at his phone, bored. "Fell in love, didn't you?

Thus ended the first and adventurous part of his existence. What followed was so different that, but for the reality of sorrow which remained with him, this strange part must have resembled a dream.

To cop-out, is not a way to cope.

Until then we must carry on and have courage.

You can’t sit on my bed,” I say as he sits on my bed. “And neither can Bunce. My bed reeks of intensity and brownies.

When I open the door, Baz is wheeling an old-fashioned chalkboard in front of our beds. “Where did that come from?” I ask. “A classroom.” “Yeah, but how did it get up here?” “It flew.” “No,” I say, “seriously.” He rolls his eyes. “I Up, up and away-ed it. It wasn’t much work.” “Why?” “Because we’re solving a mystery, Snow. I like to organize my thoughts.” “Is this how you normally plot my downfall?” “Yes. With multicoloured pieces of chalk. Stop complaining.” He opens up his book bag and takes out a few apples and things wrapped in greaseproof paper. “Eat,” he says, throwing one at me. It’s a bacon roll. He’s also got a pot of tea. “What’s all this?” I say. “Tea, obviously. I know you can’t function unless you’re stuffing yourself.” I unwrap the roll and decide to take a bite. “Thanks.” “Don’t thank me,” he says. “It sounds wrong.” “Not as wrong as you bringing me bacon butties.” “Fine, you’re welcome—when’s Bunce getting here?” “Why would she?” “Because you do everything together, don’t you? When you said you’d help, I was counting on you bringing your smarter half.

We're cool and mysterious and better-looking than any couple has a right to be.

What do you want from me, Snow?" "Nothing," he says. And he means it, the actual bastard.

You did not come this far, just to come this far.

Your emotional state has a tremendous amount to do with sickness, health and well-being. For years, my husband and I lived on -- and because of -- hope. Hope continues to give me the mental strength to carry on.

You need to cool down first.” “I’m cool.” “Simon. You’re never cool.” “That hurts, Penny.” “It shouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons I love you.

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

You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

Fakir, off!

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 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'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.

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 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?

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 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 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 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.

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.

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.