I love you, I thought. But I didn’t say it. It was not that I feared she would laugh in my face. She was far too kind for that. My fear was a greater one— that she won’t say it back.

when you're a kid, they tell you that it's what's on the inside that counts. Looks don't matter . But that's not true. Guys like Phoebus in The Hunchback, or Dorian, or the old Kyle Kingsbury-- they can be scumbags to women and still get away with it because they're good-looking. Being ugly is a kind of prisoner.

It's easier to fake it. When you fake it for sixteen years, it becomes part of you, something you don't think about.

those who do not know how to see the precious things in life will never be happy.

What happened to romance? sappy soppy longhand love letters.

He bursts into tears, and not some manlike tears either, where you pretend you're brushing something off your face and, incidentally, wipe a tear. Nope. He starts bawling like a kid who spilled his Slushie...

Beside me, Philippe and Meg hold hands. He murmurs something that sounds like, "my dear leetle mongoose." I wish he'd turn back into a frog and hop away.

Just because something is beautiful doesn´t mean it´s good.

You are ugly now, on the inside, where it matters most...you are beastly.

People make such a big deal about looks, but after a while, when you know someone, you don´t even notice anymore...

It hurts too much so I don't want to talk about it.

...if there´s a beast,maybe he´s just a regular guy with a sin conditon or something. Maybe he just needs some understanding. Maybe we judge people to much by their looks because it´s easier than seeing what´s really important.

Something with inner beauty will live forever, like the scent of a rose.

The magic is over, but its effects will live forever.

I just knew. There was no movie ending. There was only an ending.

It would be so great to have someone my own age to talk to, even if it was just about books.

The word felt good, liberating. So, I repeat it. "Fuck." Then, again. And again. Because it made me someone else, someone normal and happy, someone who used words like that, like St. John. I repeated it, over and over until she walked away, wounded. Then, I was glad. And still, I kept repeating it, because that was the only thing that kept me from crying.

I can't go on like this

We sit, silent, the comfortable way only good friends can sit.

The whole thing was like a divorce. When we divided everything up, Courtney got my dignity, and I got the heartache.

Sometimes it also helps to have a bit less pride.

True love would look a second time. True love would not be thwarted. True love would not accept no for an answer. He would search the world and certainly look again and again in every cottage until he finds you.

True love would look a second time. True love would not be thwarted. True love would not accept no for an answer. He would search the world and certainly look again and again in every cottage in Euphrasia until he finds you.

Of course, maybe I'd end up like one of those crazy old people with, like, sixty cats. And one day, the neighbors would complain about the smell, and it would turn out I'd died and the cats had eaten me.Still, it might be nice to have a cat.

But it's not enough. I don't look human. If I went outside, people would scream at the sight of me. Looks matter to most people. That's reality in the world.""Not my world."I petted Pilot. "I like your world, Will, but it doesn't have a very big population. I'm going to let her go.

She's using me. And I like it.

Everyone can use a little beauty.

Shakespeare's great."Duh. Shakespeare's cool, man.

Sometimes, unexpected things can happen.

A memory came to me. One time, in middle school, a famous author came to talk to our class and give a writing workshop. One of the things she told us about writing a novel was that the story should be about what the main character wants. Dorothy wants to go home to Kansas. George Milton wants a farm of his own. Amelia Sedley wants to marry her darling George and live happily ever after. The end of the story, according to the famous author, is when the character either gests what he wants or realizes he’s never going to get it. Or sometimes, she said, like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind, realizes she doesn’t actually want what she thought she wanted all along. pg. 324 of Bewitching

Anyone else feel like that? Like your life's a big act. Like you're trying to be a man when you're just a scared kid, trying to keep under control when you really want to scream, cry, maybe hit someone. Ever feel like you're breathing underwater, and you have to stop because you're gulping in too much fluid?