Best 87 quotes in «mara dyer quotes» category

Asscrown," I muttered under my breath as I headed to my next class. I wasn't proud of swearing at a complete stranger, no. but he started it. Noah matched my pace. "Don't you mean 'assclown'?" He looked amused. "No," I said, louder this time. "I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses," I said, as though I was reading from a dictionary of modern profanity. "I guess you nailed me then.

All I want is you. You don't have to choose me now or ever, but when you choose, I want you free.

A man knelt before me; he looked familiar but I did not know his name. He withdrew the feather from my cheek and placed it in one of my hands. My thumb caressed the edges. It was so soft. “Show me what is in the other,” he said kindly. I obeyed him. Uncurled my fingers to reveal what was inside. It was Noah’s heart.

Any minute now . . .”Two seconds later, the sound of an alarm filled my ears.“What did you do?” I said over the noise as he backed up toward the bathroom door.“The girl who gave you the note?”“Yes . . .”“I caught her staring at my lighter.”I blinked. “You gave a child, in a psych ward, a lighter.”His eyes crinkled at the corners. “She seemed trustworthy.”“You’re sick,” I said, but smiled.“Nobody’s perfect.” Noah smiled back.

Are you mad at me too?” My voice sounded dead. “Mad at you?” He seemed surprised by the question. “No,” he finally said. “I’m not mad at you.” But he was still standing there, looking at me in a way I couldn’t describe but didn’t like. “Then what?” “I’m scared of you,” he said, and left the room.

And I so badly needed to self-destruct.

And then I’m steered away, flicking a winner’s grin over my shoulder at my girl. It takes a moment to register that I’ve been shuttled into a side corridor cordoned off from the public, filled with some of the many marble busts of past generations of Shaws, casting long shadows that slice the marble floor.

Apparently she judged the souls of the dead by weighing their hearts against a feather; if she deemed a soul unworthy, it was sent to the underworld to be consumed—by this bizarre crocodile-lion-hippopotamus creature, it seems.

Are you going to draw?” “Nope.” “Shame. I was going to ask you to do me like one of your French girls.

Does anyone know how to start a fire?" Blank stares. "So we can't start a fire," [Jamie] said. "We can't fly. We can't create a force field. We are the most bullshit superheroes.

Before I could say anything, Jamie began writing giant letters over the words with his index finger. F-U-C-K Y-O-U. My sentiments exactly.

Don't find peace. Find passion.

For some reason I think of the first time I saw her, kicking the shit out of the vending machine that refused to release her candy. Before that day, every hour of my life had been exactly like the one before it. Relentlessly boring. Painfully monotonous. But then she walked out of my waking nightmare and into my life, a complete mystery from Second One. Her presence was a problem I needed to solve, a problem that finally interested me. And then, somehow, she made me interested in myself. Mara began as a question I needed to answer, but the longer I'd known her, the less I felt I actually knew. She was constantly surprising, infinitely complex. Unknowable. Unpredictable. I have never met anyone more fascinating in my life, and all the time in the world wouldn't be enough to ever know her.

Have you made any other friends since we've been here?" I gave him the death stare. "Yes, actually." "Who? I want a name." "Jamie Roth." "The Ebola kid? I heard he's a little unstable." "That was one incident.

How is it that you have friends, Noah?" "I ask myself that daily" He chomped down on the plastic straw. "Seriously. Inquiring minds want to know." Noah's brow creased, but he stared straight ahead. "I guess I don't." "Could've fooled me." "Wouldn't be difficult." That stung. "Go to hell," I said quietly. "Already there," Noah said calmly, pulling out the straw from his mouth and chucking it to the floor.

Don't you mean 'assclown'?" he looked amused. "No," I said louder this time. "I mean asscrown. The crown on top of the asshat that covers the asshole of the assclown. The very zenith in the hierarchy of asses.

Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly. His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption." Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?" "No." "Not many girls? Or not many boys?" "Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would. "How many?" "Why—" "I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?" My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One." At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear. "He was doing it wrong.

He could never use you. You own him. You should’ve seen the way he was looking at you while you were out.” I smiled a little. “How?” “Like you’re the ocean and he’s desperate to drown.

He was beautiful. And he was smiling at me.

I didn’t know enough to hold myself back. Now I was too aware, hyperaware, and so the fear chained me.

I feel like I'm going to catch hepatitis just standing here.

I'd wasted so much time wishing I could be different, wishing I could change things, change myself...I thought it would be easier to be someone else than to be who I was becoming, but I didn't think that anymore

I hate you," I muttered. Noah smiled wider. "I know.

If you fight yourself, you will lose, and fighting leaves scares.

I'm chasing oblivion I will never find.

I kiss the inside of each knee and up, farther, the roughness of my cheek raising redness on her skin.

I'll love you to ruins.

I know what I can do to a girl with a word, a look, a touch. And I want to do them all to her.

I'll be gentle," Noah added. My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me from beneath those lashes, ruining me. "You're evil." "And you're mine.

In my rush, I hadn’t tied my shoelaces. Noah was now tying them for me. He looked up at me through his dark fringe of lashes and smiled. The expression on his face melted me completely. I knew I had the goofiest grin plastered on my lips, and didn’t care. “There,” he said as he finished tying the laces on my left shoe. “Now you won’t fall.” Too late.

I’m starved for her, all the time, even now—I want every part of her, to devour her, to inhale her, but I also want her slowly.

I’m too selfish to leave you,” I said. Noah pulled back so I could see his smile. “I’m too selfish to let you.

I punched him nos so lightly in the arm. 'Asshole.' He was silent for a few minutes, and then he smacked my arm. 'OW!' 'You had a mosquito.' 'No, I didn't.

I planted a kamikaze kiss on Jamie’s cheek. “FUCK,” he shouted, wiping it off. “What if you killed me!” He threw a Skittle at my face. It hit my forehead. “Ow!” “Taste the rainbow bitch.

I read the title from the cover. ' 'The joy of... crap.' ' I read the rest of the full title of the thick, nondescript volume to myself and felt myself redden. Noah turned over on to his side and said with mock seriousness, 'I have never read 'The Joy Of Crap'. Sounds disgusting.' I blushed deeper. 'I have, however, read 'The Joy Of Sex.' ' He continued, a smile transforming his face. 'Not in a while, but I think it's one of those classics you can come back to again... and again.

I rested my head on my arms and sighed dramatically.  "What's up?" she asked "Why are boys so annoying?" she chuckled. "You know what my mother used to say?" I shook my head still in position  "Boys are stupid and girls are trouble" truer words were never spoken.

Is there any point asking what you're going to make me do on Sunday?' 'Not really.' Okay. 'Is there any point asking what you're going to do to me?' He grinned wickedly. 'Not really.' Fabulous. 'Does it involve the use of a safe word?' 'That will depend entirely on you.' Noah moved impossibly closer, just inches away. A few freckles disappeared into the scruff on his jaw. 'I'll be gentle,' Noah added. My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me from beneath those lashes, ruining me. I narrowed my eyes at him. 'You're evil.' In response, Noah smiled, and raised his finger to gently tap the tip of my nose. 'And you're mine,' he said, then walked away.

I so badly needed to self-destruct.

It doesn't matter", he murmured against my skin. His fingers traced the cuts, healing the veins beneath them. "There's only one thing that does." "What?" I whispered. He looked at me through his long,, dark lashes, with my hands still in his. "Killing Jude.

I tilted my head up and asked, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?” He pretended to think about it for an obnoxious amount of time before saying, “I would kiss you back.

I was just going to say it reminds me of the symbols on a family crest.” Noah stopped mid-stride, and turned very slowly. “We’re not related.” “I know, but—” “Don’t even think it.

I twisted my arm to curl him behind me and he unfolded there, the two of us snuggled like quotation marks in his room full of words.

I wagered my heart on her and lost, again and again, but still I would do it. I could never bet on anyone else.

My father might be right. If I lost Noah, I might just lose my mind.

I was warned about you, you know." And with that half-smile that wrecked me, Noah said, "But you're here anyway.

Morning” “God is dead.” “Coffee?” “Fuck you.” “Again?

I looked up at the video camera and stared. Then raised my hand and gave it the middle finger. “I thought you were going to give it the District Twelve salute,” Jamie said.

My fingers caught on something else as I withdrew them. It was his T-shirt, the white one with the holes in it. I filled my hands with the fabric and brought it up to my face. I caught the barest, faintest scent of him, soap and sandalwood and smoke, and in that moment, I felt not loss but need. Noah was there for me when I had no one else. He believed me when no one else did. He could not be gone, I thought, but my throat began to hurt and my chest began to tighten and I curled up in bed, knees to chest, head to knees, waiting for tears that never came and sleep that did.

My name is not Mara Dyer.

My name is not Mara Dyer, but my lawyer told me I had to choose something. A pseudonym. A nom de plume, for all of us studying for the SATs. I know that having a fake name is strange, but trust me—it’s the most normal thing about my life right now. Even telling you this much probably isn’t smart. But without my big mouth, no one would know that a seventeen-year-old who likes Death Cab for Cutie was responsible for the murders. No one would know that somewhere out there is a B student with a body count. And it’s important that you know, so you’re not next.