Best 70 quotes in «carry on quotes» category

[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.

Rome wasn't built on mutual admiration.

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.

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.

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.

She looks over at his empty bed, and her sadness is so potent that in that moment, I'd do anything to get him back for her. (I'd do anything to bring him back.)

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.)

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

Until then we must carry on and have courage.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Enough, Snow, I'm not the Queen.

Fakir, off!

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.

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

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 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'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.