The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.

Only time can heal your broken heart. Just as only time can heal his broken arms and legs.

The more boys I meet the more I love my dog.

Maybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.

When you look for a man- what you want to look for is a man with the heart of a poor boy and the mind of a conqueror.

Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys.

Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well.

Getting you a date to prom is so hard that the hypothetical idea itself is actually used to cut diamonds," I added. Radar tapped a locker twice with his fist to show his approval, and then came back with another. "Ben, getting you a date to prom is so hard that the American government believes the problem cannot be solved with diplomacy, but will instead require force.

'Tell Suzie she's a lucky cat.' Have sexier words ever been spoken?

Boys. I'd turn gay if they weren't so sexy.

And Nate? You kiss like a slobbering dog, you have bad breath, and you wouldn't know how to punch the right buttons on a girl if we came with manuals. Happy Thanksgiving, Jackass.

Yes, boys are a little like shoes. Why? Well...They can be useful. But mainly...They are nice to look at. Getting the right one can be a lovely accessory to an outfit. There are times when you couldn't do without them. And there are times when you'd rather do without them. Get the wrong ones and they can hurt. There are many types and often the ones that look the nicest are completely unpractical.

Drosophila,” I said, remembering the word.“What?” Lily asked.“Why do girls always fall for guys with the at ention span of drosophila?”“What?”“Fruit flies. Guys with the attention span of fruit flies.”“Because they’re hot?”“This,” I told her, “is not the time for being truthful.

~Do you like him much?~I told you I like him a little. Where is the use of caring for him so very much? He is full of faults.~Is he?~All boys are.~More than girls?~Very likely. Wise people say it is folly to think anyboy perfect, and as to likes and diskiles, we should be friendly to all, and worship none.

Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear

It will get easier each time, I think. I hope. I just have to keep trying.

Obsessing over a boy makes the time fly.

now,never mindthe boy who came out of that reading rooma new man,safe in the hope of what was to comein the summers of his life.

Sometimes I hear the world discussed as the realm of men. This is not my experience. I have watched men fall to the ground like leaves. They were swept up as memories, and burned. History owns them. These men were petrified in both senses of the word: paralyzed and turned to stone. Their refusal to express feeling killed them. Anachronistic men. Those poor, poor boys.

Just like how most if not all poor boys look up to and aspire to someday be rich men, most if not all underdeveloped and developing countries look up to and aspire to someday be developed countries.

As an unavoidable result of the inevitable loss of some physical and/or some mental abilities, many a man who has been alive for many years has become a boy again.

Many of the boys and men who are regarded as immature by some females are so deemed merely because they do not want to get married someday … or soon.

By drinking, a boy acts like a man. After drinking, many a man acts like a boy.

There is so much woman in many a girl and too much boy in many a man.

If it were customary to send little girls to school and teach them the same subjects as are taught to boys, they would learn just as fully and would understand the subtleties of all arts and sciences.

You know when 1 in 2 marriages ends in divorce, 1 in 42 boys have Autism, and safety complaints from the majority of whistle-blower's are not being upheld, that you are living in a seriously dysfunctional society.

Kelli Farrell talks about the difference between girls and boys who struggle to get through high school: "Girls, especially those whose moms are head of household, get the message that men come and go, that they're going to have to take care of themselves and their kids. They're ready for the opportunity to step up. By the last year or two in high school, many boys have already steeled themselves for failure. They've checked out intellectually, mentally, and emotionally.

For every girl I thought I was uncomplicated sex, it wasn't. Put it this way: if you can't see the complication, you're probably it.

Being friendzoned is like standing near fire. You stand there to seek some warmth, but get burnt instead.

...There's a difference between desire and desperation. You should never want a guy more than he wants you.

It was just my reality, to never have a boy be interested in me romantically for more than one random moment. Like a TV show you don't like but you end up watching anyway, because there's nothing else on.

Luke is the sort of boy Taylor Swift could get at least three songs out of.

Maybe if I'd agreed to do the debutante thing like she wanted. Or taken up pageants instead of riding jump bikes with a bunch of grungy boys. I'd always tell her, why can't I do both? Who says you have to be either smart or pretty, or into girly stuff or sports? Life shouldn't be about the either/or. We're capable of more than that, you know?

I understood books. I did not understand boys—especially alien boys.

Are we to deny our daughters the works of Oscar Wilde, Charles Dickens, John Steinbeck or Shakespeare?....Where is the equality in banning girls from enjoying wonderful works of literature?....What kind of society defines suitable reading material by sex? This is indefensible censorship encouraging ignorance and bias. [About Caitlin Moran's statement.]

Boys", she says, "just aren't very good at being afraid.

It's a secret code," said Calvin. "Girls are not not like boys. If a boy wants to kill you, he says 'I'm going to kill you.' If a girl wants to kill you, she says, 'We need to talk.' That's the code."I gasped. "Has a girl ever wanted to talk to you?" I asked. "Yup," said Calvin."How come you're still alive?" I asked."I vomited," said Calvin.

You will find yourself with a beautiful boy and you will not want to stay in that room, with him, even though there is nothing more you can ask for in another human beingand there is nothing you can do about this.

Girls will get together just to get together. Guys need an activity as an excuse. Otherwise it’s too homo for them to handle.

Boys, Laila came to see, treated friendship the way they treated the sun: its existence undisputed; its radiance best enjoyed, not beheld directly.

Nate stared, slack-jawed as the cab merged with the traffic and became impossible to spot. That was it.They chose each other.Just then, the dark sky lit up with fireworks. A cab sailing the street honked in celebration . In the night air , Nate thought he could hear Serena and Blairs' laughter, though he knew that was impossible; they were too far away by now.But as we know, in this city anything is possible

See" Kayla links her arm through mine, leaving Blake to jostle and race the other guys. "I tell them I can handle my own stuff, but it's like a mark of pride or something. I'm surprised Blake doesn't just hoist me over his shoulder and try to carry me, too!"I laugh, starting to relax. "Is it bad I can actually picture that?

Before you leave here, Sir, you’re going to learn that one of the most brutal things in the world is your average nineteen-year-old American boy.

I'm sorry I'm so pathetic," he thought, and then realized he had also said it.Beth laughed, so lightly and so kindly that Denis felt it in his chest, not his stomach.Can I tell you a se

Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.

Only insecure boys will belittle a woman. The greatest way to "man-up" is to empower women.

The self-esteem of western women is founded on physical being (body mass index, youth, beauty). This creates a tricky emphasis on image, but the internalized locus of self-worth saves lives. Western men are very different. In externalizing the source of their self-esteem, they surrender all emotional independence. (Conquest requires two parties, after all.) A man cannot feel like a man without a partner, corporation, team. Manhood is a game played on the terrain of opposites. It thus follows that male sense of self disintegrates when the Other is absent.

Many men remain spoiled boys that have never grown up. Women are prepared to raise them and take pain with patience, both as a condescendant contribution to supercilious compassion and as a proof of the eminence of their sense of worth. ("Prêt-à-penser" / "Ready-to-wear thinking")

When at 15, my girlfriends started dropping out of their beloved sports teams, because they didn’t want to appear muscle-y, when at 18, my male friends were unable to express their feelings, I decided that I was a feminist.

In a patriarchal society, one of the most important functions of the institution of the family is to make feel like a somebody whenever he is in his own yard a man who is a nobody whenever he is in his employer’s yard.

Be wise in time. What youth sows, old age must reap....Sow to yourself rather in righteousness: break up your fallow ground, sow not among thorns.

The man is angry, the manIs destructive, the man wants more.The woman is more, the woman is all.

Why,' I said, quite surprised by my own eloquence in inventing all this stuff, 'it happens every day. The old old story. Boys and girls fall in love, that is, they are driven mad and go blind and deaf and see each other not as human animals with comic noses and bandy legs and voices like frogs, but as angels so full of shining goodness that like hollow turnips with candles put into them, they seem miracles of beauty. And the next minute the candles shoot out sparks and burn their eyes. And they seem to each other like devils, full of spite and cruelty. And they will drive each other mad unless they have grown some imagination. Even enough to laugh.

I had always been a boy in this place, and many of the trees and rocks and streams had been old men when I knew them. Some had died. All had changed. I knew that. I had changed the most.

George dutifully dusted the marks from the expensive rug and retired to the kitchen to await a grave and disapproving Collins, wishing with all of his boyish heart that he had applied for the stables. Cleaning stalls had to be beneficial exercise, and surely one must become accustomed to the smells...eventually.

It’s bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys’ games and work and manners!

the nation's young men havebeen proved by surveys to be completely unmarriageable, and as a result there's a wholegeneration of single girls like me with their own incomes and homes who have lots of fun anddon't need to wash anyone else's socks.

Women who are into Lord of The Rings & The Hobbit are, like, the coolest people in the world

Besides, men aren’t worth your time anyway, Letti. If we women spent as much time on ourselves as we do fretting over men, we’d be invincible! Work on yourself because at the end of the day, you’re the only person you can trust.

For you the guy should be the one who will look like the God among the guys.

I have this love for Mattie. It was formed in me as he himself was formed. It has his shape, you might say. He fits it. He fits into it as he fits into his clothes. He will always fit into it. When he gets out of the car and I meet him and hug him, there he is, him himself, something of my very own forever, and my love for him goes all around him just as it did when he was a baby and a little boy and a young man grown.

Once upon a time, before the boys were killed and when there were more horses than cars, before the male servants disappeared and they made do, at Upleigh and at Beechwood, with just a cook and a maid, the Sheringhams had owned not just four horses in their own stable, but what might be called a 'real horse', a racehorse, a thoroughbred. Its name was Fandango. It was stabled near Newbury. It had never won a damn thing. But is was the family's indulgence, their hope for fame and glory on the racecourses of southern England. The deal was that Pa and Ma - otherwise known in his strange language as 'the shower' - owned the head and body and he and Dick and Freddy had a leg each.'What about the fourth leg?''Oh the fourth leg. That was always the question.

I remember our childhood dayswhen life was easyand math problems hard.Mom would help us with our homeworkand dad was not at home but at work.After our chores, we’d go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts.You, sister, wore the bangles thatyou, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist.“Why the bangles?” the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead.“They’re for my sisters,” you said.Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke,a few sips each. Then,we’d buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white vanand hand-in-hand,we’d walk to our small flat above the restaurant.I remember our childhood days.Do you remember them too?

Our long wanderings have made a man out of him, too. They have not only strengthened his frame and hardened his constitution, but they have given stability to his character. He is thoughtful and prudent, and his advice will always be valuable, while of his courage I have no doubt.

Now he was nothing to her, just a lesson in time, a wicked boy-man, incapable of wealth or prestige.

Before he could say anything, "I told him; I have had my share of boys".He drew me closer and said "let me your man then".

Several of the girls at the party had had sex, something which sounded appealing but only if it could happen with blindfolds in a time warp plus amnesia

I was a boy that age once, and I know that 97.7 percent of their bodies are semen and the 2.8 percent is an incendiary device for spraying it.

I just thought I had to do it. You want this boy to like you, right? And he’s so solid, so sure of himself. He knows what he wants: you. Besides, maybe if he touches you, you’ll be real.

There," she said. She rocked him back and forth. "There, you foolish, beautiful boy who wants to change the world. There, there. And who could keep from loving you? Who could keep from loving a boy so brave and true?

It was easier for girls. They could say This hurts, or I don’t like how this feels, and have the complaint be socially acceptable. Boys, though, didn’t speak that language. They didn’t learn it as children and they didn’t manage to pick it up as adults, either.

For Every Child We Teach To Cherish Learning, A Universe Is Born.

I was twelve. You were girls, and therefore an entirely different species.

Despite their displays of bravado, young boys can be peculiarly susceptible to atmosphere("Between Four Yews")

Hutch called into the semidarkness of The Shed. 'Somebody's coming, Heck!'Then he, with the rest, faded from sight with that uncanny quickness known only to creatures of the wild and young children who are, after all, also creatures of the wild.("The Shed")

life's better with girls. boys need girls.

He wishes he could remember everything. Anything. He doesn’t sense a bone in his body that can feel compassion or worthiness. Self-pity hides away as well, the lowest form of emotion not even capable of resting in his wrecked mind.

We are living in an increasingly feminized society. Some people view that as an increasingly civilized society, but it has left our boys with deep desires for honor but few outlets for displaying it appropriately.

A man's level of "toughness" (as assessed by other men), will determine whether or not his girlfriend will get hit on by other guys right in front of him in public places. If you're deemed a "p*#%y" by other guys and they want your girlfriend, even in your company she'll be considered "fair game".

Guys, you don't have to act "manly" to be considered a man; you are a man, so just be yourself. You don't have to prove your masculinity to anyone.

Guys, you don't have to act "manly" to be considered a man; you are a man, so just be yourself. Don't let society make you believe you have to prove your masculinity to anyone because you don't. You are you and you are worthy, full stop.

Carpe diem.Seize the day, boys.Make your lives extraordinary

The "new" Anglo-American feminist theory argues that too little mothering, and, in particular, the absence of mother-son connection, is what engenders both sexism and traditional masculinity in men. (...) This perspective positions mothering as central to feminist politics in its insistence that true and lasting gender equality will occur only when boys are raised as the sons of mothers. As the early feminist script of mother-son connection required the denial of the mother's power and the displacement of her identity as mother, the new perspective affirms the maternal and celebrates mother-son connection. In this, it rewrites the patriarchal and early feminist narrative to give (...) voice and presence to the mother and make mother-son connection central to the redesign of both traditional masculinity and the larger patriarchal culture.

Memories demand attention, and these memories will have teeth.

I have leveled with the girls - from Anchorage to Amarillo.I tell them that all marriages are happyIt's the living together afterward that's tough.I tell them that a good marriage is not a gift,It's an achievement.that marriage is not for kids It takes guts and maturity.It separates the men from the boys and the women from the girls.I tell them that marriage is tested dily by the ability to compromise.Its survival can depend on being smart enough to know what's worth fighting about.Or making an issue of or even mentioning.Marriage is giving - and more important, it's forgiving.And it is almost always the wife who must do these things.Then, as if that were not enough, she must be willing to forget what she forgave.Often that is the hardest part.Oh, I have leveled all right.If they don't get my message, Buster,It's because they don't want to get it.Rose-colored glasses are never made in bifocalsBecause nobody wants to red the small print in dreams.

The majority of boys think the highest form of creativity is weeing a pattern into snow.

Boys are unpredictable and stupid and brash. They do creepy, stalkerish things because they believe in extreme measures. They love to the fullest and ignore completely. They heal hearts and grind them to dust. To have nothing from a boy is devastating, but when he gives his all, the world becomes an electric place, and that is why women love them so—their all is worth the risk.

Don’t you have dragons to fight so that you started saving girls who don’t need it?

There is the scent too. Wonder follows it; wonder about how a boy can smell like that when he probably has no idea. He smells like the woods in the winter or the rain when it first falls, or maybe it’s just the way he always smells and there is no way to define it.

She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness.

5-4-10 Tuesday 8:00 A.M. Made a large batch of chili and spaghetti to freeze yesterday. And some walnut fudge! Relieved the electricity is still on. It’s another beautiful sunny day with fluffy white clouds drifting by. The last cloud bank looked like a dog with nursing pups. I open the window and let in some fresh air filled with the scent of apple and plum blossoms and flowering lilacs. Feels like it’s close to 70 degrees. There’s a boy on a skate board being pulled along by his St. Bernard, who keeps turning around to see if his young friend is still on board. I’m thinking of a scene still vividly displayed in my memory. I was nine years old. I cut through the country club on my way home from school and followed a narrow stream, sucking on a jawbreaker from Ben Franklins, and I had some cherry and strawberry pixie straws, and banana and vanilla taffy inside my coat pocket. The temperature was in the fifties so it almost felt like spring. There were still large patches of snow on the fairways in the shadows and the ground was soggy from the melt off. Enthralled with the multi-layers of ice, thin sheets and tiny ice sickles gleaming under the afternoon sun, dripping, streaming into the pristine water below, running over the ribbons of green grass, forming miniature rapids and gently flowing rippling waves and all the reflections of a crystal cathedral, merging with the hidden world of a child. Seemingly endless natural sculptures. Then the hollow percussion sounds of the ice thudding, crackling under my feet, breaking off little ice flows carried away into a snow-covered cavern and out the other side of the tunnel. And I followed it all the way to bridge under Maple Road as if I didn't have a care in the world.

Small boys often produce their own plays; but usually the parts are not written out. They hardly need to be, for the main line of each character is always "Stick 'em up!" In these plays the curtain is always rung down on a set of corpses, for small boys are by nature through and uncompromising.

Most people don't have real friends. You have people in your life waiting for opportunities to see what YOU can do for them.

The other day, a friend of a friend said that everyone started out as girls, but boys evolved… But don’t worry girls, I hit him.

Seeing him jogging at the park had cracked the window so I could peek into his soul. Seeing him with his friends threw the window wide

It was in their friendship they just wanted to run forever, shadow and shadow.

Some people are boys longer than others.

Boys Shack, MEN build homes

Boys are beyond the range of anybody's sure understanding, at least when they are between the ages of 18 months and 90 years.

Fact: I don't know of a single girl who doesn't wish the show-it-all boxer-shorts phenomenon would go away as well. Guys, we just don't want to see your underwear. Truthfully, we believe that there is a direct correlation between how much underwear you show and how much you've got upstairs, if you know what I mean.

Boyhood, like measles, is one of those complaints which a man should catch young and have done with, for when it comes in middle life it is apt to be serious.

Would it be possible to find a more ungrateful boy, or one with less heart than I have!

For a long time, I used to think that I had a man's brain that I thought more like a man than a woman. But now I've come to realise that whatever it is I do think like, it's not like men; because men don't really think like men, they think like boys.

In her experience, there were only two kinds of guys: the ones into sports and the ones into video gaming. It seemed guys had to be obsessed with something, whether it was watching a game or playing in it or keeping some weird collection related to it.

A woman's confidence separates the men from the boys.

All the real blokes I know are obsessed with cars and have started doing cycling at the weekend and being really, really boring about it and banging on about their Fitbits and growing stupid beards and talking about being on Tinder. That's what all the 'real men' are like these days!

How boys transitioned from bothersome pests to men who made her pulse skip a beat and her head swim in a flood of pleasurable sensations was beyond her. Perhaps this was the true definition of magic.

...You won't even see what is put right on the table before you. Men. If it was raining soup you'd be out there with a fork.

It shall be an offence for any man, either a husband or other person of the male sex, married or otherwise, being over the age of twelve years, to throw any item of clothing having been worn by the said person for whatever length of time, upon the floor of any bathroom or any room adjacent to and connected to a bathroom, without good cause.

Females and boys are the only creatures that propose others for friendship. As for the rest of us, friendship sort of just happens.

You!' Skeet bellowed.When uttered with just the right tone, this is the universal name for any boy. Accordingly, all heads snapped towards the angry master.

A fantasy is nothing more than a dream you were too scared to chase.

History chews up sexually uncertain boys, and spits us out as recycled, generic greeting cards for lonely old men.

I had a dream that boys would act like men for once…then I woke up.

Blue screen of death: she'd crashed his system. Oh, well. Boys were so unstable that way, full of buggy, self-contradictory code, pathetically unoptimized.

Small boys were a mystery to Sylvie. The satisfaction they gained from throwing sticks or stones for hours on end, the obsessive collection of inanimate objects, the brutal destruction of the fragile world around them, all seemed at odds with the men they were supposed to become.

As far as I can tell, kids are called bossy when they behave in a dictatorial and domineering fashion. They’re called bossy when they try to order people around and refuse to listen to authority figures. Here’s a suggestion: instead of telling us not to refer to them as bossy, why don’t we teach them not to be bossy? We concentrate so much on eradicating negative words while forgetting to address the behavior that the words describe.

Bossy means “given to ordering people around, highhanded, domineering, overly authoritative, dictatorial, abrasive.” ...Could it be that girls are called bossy when they’re… well, bossy? Could it be that boys are also called bossy for the same reason?

Every kind of relationship needs encouragement from both parties. Be it marriage, dating, friendship, enmity etc.

Little boys run in gangs, grown men organise teams.

The world expected girls to pluck and primp and put on heels. Meanwhile, boys dressed in rumpled T-shirts and baggy pants and misplace their combs, and yet you were suppose to fall at their feet? Unacceptable.

If there was some way of knowing which boys were likely to turn out to be decent men, boys that could love us back as passionately as we felt we could love them, then we could banish the likelihood of divorce and unhappiness to a statistically unlikely outcome.

Baseball isn't just a game. It's life being played out on a field—a field of dreams—on diamonds of green, where players pursuing their dreams try to be the best they can be on the grandest stage of all—where men become boys and boys become men, all speaking one universal language without uttering a single word.

It was common knowledge that big, bad city boys spent the bulk of their time sleeping around, coiffing their hair and posting pictures of food on the internet.

Boys dream of strippers, men dream of their women waiting for them at home.

We may also discover that sexual abuse helps to explain the high prevalence rates of eating disorders among women and may lend some insight into why we are starting to see more documentation of eating disorders among boys as we see the reports of sexual abuse for male children increasing. Culture alone cannot explain the phenomena of such high rates of eating disorders.

God hides great things in little things. In every young girl, God hides a great woman; in every young boy, He hides a great man; in a small seed, He hides a big forest! A little is never inadequate if God's hands are its creator! Don't despise little things!

He let out a hiss of pain,then smiled that crooked, sheepish smile he always fell back on when he was caught doing something bad. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just- I've been lying here for hours, thinking about blood.

Lessons in magic from a mysterious boy who belonged to a hidden Ferisher court called the Wild — I couldn't think of anything that would horrify my parents more. Therefore, the proposition became exponentially more enticing.

He thought that fat boys were probably only allowed to love pretty girls inside. If he told anyone how he felt (not that he had anyone to tell), that person would probably laugh until he had a heart-attack.

Boys keep working over your goals these girls ain't going anywhere.

Stupid kissing. Stupid roaming hands. Stupid boys.

In my experience, boys are predictable. As soon as they think of something, they do it. Girls are smarter—they plan ahead. They think about not getting caught.

Are you all right,” he whispered, his lips brushing the tips of my spiky hair. Granted, I knew he was only being discreet so as to save poor Hillary from being reamed again, but my knees didn’t know the difference. They betrayed me, buckling under his hot breath on my ear and the deep whisper that tickled my senses.

Boys annoyed her. Girls annoyed her. She should have been a cat.

If there is one thing worse than self-pity, it was other people's pity.

Can we get out of here?""Your chariot awaits.""In the form of a blue Ford ute?" I curved my brow."But of course," he said in an over-the-top French accent."Sacre blur, bad accent alert!""Wow," he said, "Le rude?""Le sorry?""Le hurt." Toby clutched his heart."What can I do to soothe your shattered ego?"Toby drummed his chin thoughtfully, pacing around me. He stopped just near enough to whisper in my ear."Le kiss?

I may have been buzzed last night, but I remember everything. I can't promise you that I won't want to drive you home, or kiss you like crazy again. Because I will. I do.

That’s the thing. I’ve never met anyone like you, Tess. You think you’re a no one? You’re so wrong. So wrong. You stand in a room with all the Angelas, even the Ellies. None of them can compare to you. I remember when you started working at the Onslow, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You were so terrified. You weren’t full of yourself like other girls. Every time you walked into the bar, you were like a breath of fresh air. Even when Angela was a bitch to you, you rose above it. You made me see the difference in people. You’re not a nobody, Tess, you’re a somebody.

So if I was to choose? Then I choose complicated,” I said, with a nod of finality. I met his eyes again in a silent challenge.“I choose you.

He looked at me now."Remember I said, 'what if I didn't want to fix your bike?'"I remembered. "Yes...""I didn't want to fix it, because I liked driving you places.

What do you know? This is where it all began,” he said.“Began?”“This is exactly where I was when I wanted to kiss you,” he whispered, his lips brushing along my neck causing me to melt under his touch. “So bad.”“Except this time there’s no drunk netballer squawking at us,” I teased.“I wouldn’t care if the seven horseman of the Apocalypse charged through the garden right now, nothing’s gonna stop me from doing this.” He leaned down and captured my lips with tenderness, a completely perfect kiss, like it always was.

A 'T' for Tess, a 'T' for Toby.

Tess, there isn't a drunken, screaming netballer in the world that would have made me not want to ... continue.

Do you want some words of advice, Tess?”I glanced at Adam’s profile as he sipped.“Don’t give your heart away too easily.” He turned to me. “Make him earn it.

He slid over to me and grabbed me closer to him. My smile fell from my face with the unexpectedness of it. His hands cupped my face, his lips hovering above mine.“You seriously want to know, Tess?”He closed the space and claimed my mouth with an urgent, hot, delving kiss.He smiled. “You are sexy, in your own goofball way, you’re sweet and beautiful and smart and funny and, although you kiss to the point where I feel like I want to go back for seconds, you’re my best friend, and that’s why I don’t want to tap that.

Just be careful, hon,” Rosanna said.“Oh, are the plates hot?” I flinched back just before my hands made contact.Rosanna laughed. “No, but hot boys can burn you just as easily.

When you knock off work tonight, go looking for Toby, because, trust me, he will be looking for you.

Well, if they set you in the kissing booth, let me know, I am always willing to donate for a worthy cause.

Tess, will you marry me?" Toby laughed.

She is something else.

Boat.Toby.1pm.Shit!

Mike couldn’t believe that Mr. Mackey’s secret tragedy was connected to his store, and no one had ever told him.“Do you think he’d ever take it back?” “Why would he? His son was never found, and he still blames your dad for it. I think it’s his way of making himself feel better about the accident. He thinks horror movies are evil or something.” “That’s stupid. Most kids are more scared of him than they are of horror movies,” Mike said, “He shouldn’t blame my dad.” “He thinks he’s protecting the kids,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. “Well, if he is trying to save kids, why is he so mean to us? Everyone’s afraid of him. Even Jack.” “I don’t know. I guess he’s just a cranky old man. Don’t take it personally. He’s had it rough. He has to stand on that playground everyday knowing that just over that fence, his son’s body is down there somewhere.” “Then why doesn’t he teach at another school?” “I don’t know, bud. Sometimes people just like to torture themselves.” - Saving Hascal's Horrors

Don’t tell Mom, but I think my little emergency last night was a sign. And I was thinking of you when it happened. So, I’m worried that this is a prediction about you. Do you have something big planned? Something dangerous that you’re going to do?” Mike looked away. He didn’t want to lie to her but he also couldn’t tell her his plan. “Well, whatever it is, don’t do it, okay? You’re going to get the feeling soon too. I know it,” she yawned, “It feels like it’s a long way off, but I’ve never had this strong a reaction before. And now that I’m stuck in bed, I can’t help you…or stop you. So please, whatever you’re doing, let it go, okay? Especially if it’s about the shop. Just let me handle it.” “I’ll be careful,” he said. “Huh?” she yawned again. He didn’t answer. Her eyelids grew heavy until they closed all the way. Mike lifted the sheet that was turned down from the bed and draped it over her. Then, he left the room, closing the door behind him. - Saving Hascal's Horrors

He let go of the rope one hand at a time and latched onto Lisa’s hands. Her fingernails dug into his wrists, but her grip was strong after a summer of lifting girls into the air. It was a tug of war battle between his friends and Shawn’s ghost. The wind died down as Shawn gathered all of his energy to pull on Mike. Even though he was terrified of what was happening, Mike knew that Shawn wasn’t trying to hurt him. After all these years, he was still trying to find a way out. Shawn wanted to go home too, and he saw the hope of being rescued falling away. “Shawn! Please! Let me go!” Mike called over the dying wind, “I’ll get you help! We’ll get you out! Just please! Let me go!” - Saving Hascal's Horrors

Did you ever think about boys?' I say, staring up into the dark. 'There wasn't room,' she whispers, and her voice is unbelievably sad. 'At first, after Connor, I was just waiting. I was going to get a new boyfriend soon- as soon as I was prettier or better, more perfect. But after a while there was no room for anything else. If I though about kissing or sex, I just started feeling ugly, too awful for anything good.

You still know that boy. He was very angry at fourteen, fifteen, in summer and winter, at home or in the world. So angry that his face contorted in photos. The camera was a question and his face did not know the answer.

They fight like puppies. They are young, and boys. They are full of anger and impatience. Women have less trouble with these things. It's part of what makes us better fighters.

It's about the ways in which girls deal with anger and aggression, as opposed to the ways in which boys do. The premise is that boys tend to be more direct in their aggression - physical confrontation - while in contrast, girls use an indirect approach known as relational aggression. Relational aggression is a form of aggression where the group is used as a weapon to assault others and others' relationships. It uses lies, secrets, betrayals and a host of other two-faced tactics to destroy or damage the relationships and social standing of others in the group.

Maybe attraction was aligned in heaven before our birth because there was no other way to explain my feelings. There were millions of boys on the earth. Why did it feel so strong?

If you continue to entertain "boys", don't be upset when you can't find a "man".

Another thing that happens in the movies: They all have these dramatic crises where everything looks bleak and you think the couple will never, ever get back together. But then they realize they can't live without each other, and in the end they live happily ever after.It's all a lie. When you hate someone you used to love, and you think he's done something awful-he probably has.You're not going to love him again.He's not going to apologize, or come back to you.He probably doesn't even ever think about you at all, because he's too busy thinking about someone else.

Some boys... Are perfect shits. & other boys are very, very beautiful.

My God,” she says. “I feel like I’ve gone through a car wash.”I laugh, or force myself to, because it’s not something I’d normally laugh at.“What about you?” she says to Scottie. “How did you make out?”“I’m a boy,” Scottie says. “Look at me.”Sand has gotten into the bottom of her suit, creating a huge bulge. She scratches at the bulge. “I’m going to go to work now,” she says. I think she’s impersonating me and that Mrs. Speer is getting an unrealistic, humiliating glimpse.“Scottie,” I say. “Take that out.”“It must be fun to have girls,” Mrs. Speer says.She looks at the ocean, and I see that she’s looking at Alex sunbathing on the floating raft. Sid leans over Alex and puts his mouth to hers. She raises a hand to his head, and for a moment I forget it’s my daughter out there and think of how long it has been since I’ve been kissed or kissed like that.“Or maybe you have your hands full,” Mrs. Speer says.“No, no,” I say. “It’s great,” and it is, I suppose, though I feel like I’ve just acquired them and don’t know yet. “They’ve been together for ages.” I gesture to Alex and Sid. I don’t understand if they’re a couple or if this is how all kids in high school act these days.Mrs. Speer looks at me curiously, as if she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t.“And boys.” I gesture to her little dorks. “They must keep you busy.”“They’re a handful. But they’re at such a fun age. It’s such a joy.”She gazes out at her boys. Her expression does little to convince me that they’re such a joy. I wonder how many times parents have these dull conversations with one another and how much they must hide. They’re so goddamn hyper, I’d do anything to inject them with a horse tranquilizer. They keep insisting that I watch what they can do, but I truly don’t give a fuck. How hard is it to jump off a diving board?My girls are messed up, I want to say. One talks dirty to her own reflection. Did you do that when you were growing up?“Your girls seem great, too,” she says. “How old are they?”“Ten and eighteen. And yours?”“Ten and twelve.”“Oh,” I say. “Great.”“Your younger one sure is funny,” she says. “I mean, not funny. I meant entertaining.”“Oh, yeah. That’s Scottie. She’s a riot.

The most important thing to remember, the guiding principle, is to try to keep your son's self esteem intact while he is in school. That is the real risk to his success and to his mental health. Once he's out of school, the world will be different. He'll find a niche where the fact that he can't spell well or didn't read until he was eight, won't matter. But if he starts to hate himself because he isn't good at schoolwork, he'll fall into a hole that he'll be digging himself out of for the rest of his life.

I'd watched enough TV in the lonely afternoons after school, before there was a cheese shop to go to, to know that there were boys who lied, who knew how to say just the right thing or give you just the right look. Boys who could make you feel a way you thought you didn't deserve to feel.

While Leo fussed over his helm controls, Hazel and Frank relayed the story of the fish-centaurs and their training camp.'Incredible,' Jason said. 'These are really good brownies.''That's your only comment?' Piper demanded.He looked surprised. 'What? I heard the story. Fish-centaurs. Merpeople. Letter of intro to the Tiber River god. Got it. But these brownies--''I know,' Frank said, his mouth full. 'Try them with Ester's peach preserves.''That,' Hazel said, 'is incredibly disgusting.''Pass me the jar, man,' Jason said.Hazel and Piper exchanged a look of total exasperation. Boys.

Defend myself? I cannot defend the verbal repressions of a boy. A curmudgeonly, cantankerous, ill-tempered, counterfeit boy.

Fries Before Guys

I was crying a little for the boy I had wanted him to be and the boy he hadn’t turned out to be.

What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok?

They say it's the woman's prerogative to change her mind. But that's wrong. Guys are the one who get to say, "You know what? I don't want to be with you after all." They get to say it after they've sucked all the sweetness out of you, just like those cheap, liquid filled wax candy things we used to get for Halloween. They leave you dried up, empty piece of wax, and head off to find somebody else who still has some sweetness inside.

I don't use a crap camera, I don't eat junk, and I'm not going to a dance where the boys are bores

The interior life expands and fills; it approaches the edge of skin; it thickens with its own vivid story; it even begins to hear rumors, from beyond the horizon skin’s rim, of nations and wars. You wake one day and discover your grandmother; you wake another day and notice, like any curious naturalist, the boys.

A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

There are boys lying awake, hating themselves. There are boys screwing for the right reasons and boys screwing for the wrong ones. There are boys sleeping on benches and under bridges, and luckier unlucky boys sleeping in shelters, which feel like safety but not like home. There are boys so enraptured by love that they can't get their hearts to slow down enough to get some rest, and other boys so damaged by love that they can't stop picking at their pain. There are boys who clutch secrets at night in the same way they clutch denial in the day. There are boys who do not think of themselves at all when they dream. There are boys who will be woken in the night. There are boys who fall asleep with phones to their ears.

All I cared about that summer were suntans, beaches, boys and booze.

We sat there smiling at each other, shimmied to a standstill, thinking about all the boys that had wanted us that day, and how none of them had got us, not for a minute; how we'd let them pay for drinks and candyfloss and then run away laughing, their cries of 'Slags!' and 'Bitches' ringing in our ears like respect rather than derision.

Boys were so proud - you always had to let them think they were good at things.

Life doesn't change when you meet a guy and life doesn't fall apart when you break up with one. We are teaching young female readers the wrong things through books not only expressing this point, but also using these two concepts as turning plot points of novels.

We are in a boy recession," Eugene repeats. "There's been a sudden, drastic decrease in the male population at this school. And I'm gonna take advantage of it.

That’s when I realized it. I liked this girl. A lot. I liked her super-moist double chocolate chip cupcakes. I liked how kind and patient she was with the guests, the way her forehead crinkled when she was thinking about a problem. I liked her low, soft voice and that long ribbon of platinum-blond hair. I liked the way she looked at the world, as if it were an okay place, where good things were actually possible.

Little girl, little boyIf love has a wayFill their fields with laughterAnd scatter the sun on their dayAnd if it should happen to rainMake their raindrops kissesStraight from heaven aboveThat touch their hands and facesAnd that fill them with loveAnd make the moon reflect their smilesAnd their stars plentyAnd, above all, keep them togetherAnd hold them as you mayForever and everUntil their last day.

Boys my age with whom, in spite of everything, I was obliged to mix occasionally, mocked me.

But we left camp after a while and we was driving in a real spooky place cause all the roads up near camp are dark and in the woods and we had to drive for a while to get to a highway cause there was no street lights or anything and nothing but woods and my dad asked me if I had a good time and I told him I did, but that’s really a lie and I felt like telling him what it was like at that mean old camp, but I thought he’d get mad and tell me I’m making it up and I thought I’d tell him some other time like Febuary and cause I didn’t think he’d believe me anyway, but so I changed my mind and then I thought I should tell him now cause he’ll wonder howcome I never told him sooner, so when he said that’s a nasty gash and when he said what did I do, stumble on the trail and hit a big rock or something? I told him no and I told him that lots of bad things happened to me at camp and that I never want to go there again cause I hate it and I almost cried. But he said I always had a bibid emigination cause he’s sure it wasn’t that bad! And I don’t know about those big words either, but what he said made me kind of mad cause grownups always think they know what happened to you better than you do yourself.

It seems almost like America wants their boys hurt. That they need that. That guy who writes books about the wolf and the boy: every book has a scene where the kid gets caught in an avalanche or a freak blizzard. Invariably, the kid winds up naked and alone and bleeding to death and it's only the effort of the wolf that saves him. The boy can never do it himself. If they did that with a female character in a long set of books like that, the feminists would be up in arms. But does anyone mind it when it's a little boy?

All boys wish to be manly; but they often try to become so by copying the vices of men rather than their virtues. They see men drinking, smoking, swearing; so these poor little fellows sedulously imitate such bad habits, thinking they are making themselves more like men. They mistake rudeness for strength, disrespect to parents for independence. They read wretched stories about boy brigands and boy detectives, and fancy themselves heroes when they break the laws, and become troublesome and mischievous. Out of such false influences the criminal classes are recruited. Many a little boy who only wishes to be manly, becomes corrupted and debased by the bad examples around him and the bad literature which he reads. The cure for this is to give him good books, show him truly noble examples from life and history, and make him understand how infinitely above this mock-manliness is the true courage which ennobles human nature.

Other girls play with soft toys,” I said, “and you play with knives…

I’m never going to be kissed.”I open my eyes to see my brothers gaping at me like I’ve lost my mind.“You don’t kiss boys,” says West. “Boys shouldn’t be anywhere near you. Guys only want one thing, Rach, and it ain’t conversation. I should know.” He waves off the subject in frustration, then shakes his head as he speaks again. “Why are we even talking about this? You aren’t seeing anyone.”“Ah, hell,” mumbles Jack. “We’re having the sex talk with my baby sister.”“Is she dating?” Gavin demands of West and Ethan. “She can’t be dating. Now we have to beat the snot out of some horny teenager. You should have told me this was going on.”“Make them stop,” I whisper to Ethan. Along with the dread of speeches and vomiting, I’m also dying of embarrassment.“She’s not dating!” West shudders as if spiders cover him. “That’s just sick, Rach. Don’t talk like that. Ever. Again.”Gavin sends me a glare clearly meant to warn me off from kissing and dating boys before he heads for the main ballroom.

it's like kissing a boy, finally, a boy

Maybe before you start flirting with boys and kissing boys and trying to date boys, you should know who you are and where you stand.

Ergo: girls should always make the first move, because (a) they are, on the whole, less likely to be rejected than guys, (b) that way, girls will never get kissed unless they want to be kissed.

Boys are raw materials that women manufacture into products called men.

It's just I'd rather sleep through the days so I'll be awake for the nights, when the boys are out.

In their sleep, both boys kept moving closer to me, and when I finally drifted off, there was one arm wrapped around my stomach and one hand intertwined with mine.

Suddenly I register that St. Clair is shorter than Josh. Much shorter. It’s odd I didn’t notice earlier, but he doesn’t carry himself like a short guy. Most are shy or defensive, or some messed-up combination of the two, but St. Clair is confident and friendly and—

The humiliation that Jane had felt turned to something else--grief perhaps, or regret. Regret that she had not known how to act with a boy, regret that she had not been wiser.

A team is where a boy can prove his courage on his own. A gang is where a coward goes to hide.

But, really, are there any guys out there who aren’t jerks? I don’t even know any grown-up men who aren’t jerks.

This is one rule about mixing boys and girls: that a date always comes first.

I tried to think of what my father would tell me. 'Don't let any boy give you shit.' But he'd never said how we should go about preventing this.

I think I’m going to cut down on my dating,’ Annie said. ‘I used to need a lot of attention. You know, to make up for that empty feeling inside. But boys aren’t always the answer.

When a boy's first romantic interlude is with Pheobe the Dog-Faced Girl, he feels a need to get out into the world and find a new life.

Gone are the days when girls used to cook like their mothers and boys used to dress like their fathers. Now girls drink like their fathers and boys dress like their mothers.

Schoolboys are a merciless race, individually they are angels, but together, especially in schools, they are often merciless.

I wasn't aware that was how I felt, either, until it was out. And now that I've said it like that, I'm not exactly sure it is how I feel. But this isn't a piece of paper I can crumple up and throw away. they aren't words I can cross out to start over. Now they're out, and I know they'll hang here, between us, maybe forever.

...he would tell stories about the Holy City, about Solomon, a just king, a poet-king, a monarch with a thousand concubines. We weren't quite sure what concubines were, but we guessed: a concubine ... Concubines! One thousand! One thousand women in all colours and shapes - but all of them sexy, of course - one thousand - one thousand raving beauties lying side by side on a bed (what a bed! How wide it must have been!), all of them smiling, all of them reaching out their arms, all of them saying something in Hebrew - but the meaning was unmistakeable - "Come here, sweety." One thousand women. If one were to spend twenty, or fifteen minutes with each one of them, how long would it take to...? A problem that our math teacher never assigned us for homework...!

baptizing all containers with an orifice that appeals to their cock is the trivial pursuit of little boys" (23)(rbt: every "boy" i know has done this at least 15 times -- why?)

THE LUXE IS . . .Pretty girls in pretty dresses, partying until dawn.Irresistible boys with mischievous smiles and dangerous intentions.White lies, dark secrets, and scandalous hookups.This is Manhattan in 1899.

The journey of motherhood centers on being the person God has chosen out of all humanity and space and time to care for these souls, these beings who will exist for all eternity.

He gave me a warm smile, and I blinked, realizing he was cute. I'd never really hadthe luxury of noticing cuteness or lack thereof in guys. Mostly it was the lethal/nonlethal distinction that I went with

Energy has to be fed from a source. If you don't feed the source, it dissipates entirely.Same is true of liking a boy. If you cut off the thoughts, if you stop pinning, you're free to find a boy who is attainable.

... but that's the beauty of boarding school. I make all my own decisions, small and medium, while the big ones are left up to the Prefect Academy - and as far as boys go, to the only expert I know - Suzanne Santry

There was no denying it. Boys grabbed him. Their loveliness tore him apart. The world was a wonder after all.

Everything is about them, not the dying boys and girls in the arena.

She now saw that she wanted a boy to do more than follow her in blind devotion. She wanted a boy to challenge her, to tell her about things she'd never thought of, to show her new points of view.

Easy does it, boys. I just need help standing, not flying.

I don't know," I said. "What else did you do for your first eighteen years?""Like I said," he said as I unlocked the car, "I'm not so sure that you should go by my example.""Why not?""Because I have my regrets," he said. "Also, I'm a guy. And guys do different stuff.""Like ride bikes?" I said."No," he replied. "Like have food fights. And break stuff. And set off firecrackers on people's front porches. And...""Girls can't set off firecrackers on people's front porches?""They can," he said... "But they're smart enough not to. That's the difference.

Boys are idiots.Girls are idiots, too, of course, but boys are a special kind of

We girls are prewired to like things that make you suffer.

This should tell you everything you need to know about guys. They only go after what they know they can get. We girls, on the other hand, aim really high. We take a leap...

Boys are like elastic bands. It doesn't mean that boys are made of elastic, which is a plus because nobody wants a boyfriend made out of rubber. On the other hand, if they were made out of rubber, you could save yourself a lot of time and effort and heartache by just rustling one up out of a car tire. Boys are different from girls. Girls like to be cozy all the time but boys don't. First of all, they like to get all close to you like a coiled-up rubber band, but after a while, they get fed up with being too coiled and need to stretch away to their full stretchiness. Then, after a bit of on-their-own strategy, they ping back to be close to you. So in conclusion on the boy front, you have to play hard to get and also let them be elastic bands.

Something is unfolding, being revealed to me. I see that there's a whole world of of girls and their doings that has been unknown to me, and that I can be part of without making any effort at all. I don't have to keep up with anyone, run as fast, aim as well, make loud explosive noises, decode messages, die on cue. I don't have to think about whether I do these things well, as well as a boy. All I have to do is sit on the floor and cut frying pans our of the Eaton's Catalogue with embroidery scissors, and say I've done it badly.

Boys don't gush, so I can stand it. The last time I let in a party of girls, one fell into my arms and said, "Darling, love me!" I wanted to shake her,' answered Mrs. Jo, wiping her pen with energy.

I could tell he was becoming sulky, as boys and men do when they're caught bluffing. And I ignored him, as girls and women do when they catch them out.

Boys often have permission to become men without the forfeiture of their desirability. And so these men write stories that grasp at girls who are ghosts twice over: first by being dead and second by being shallow shadows of actual girls, the assorted fragments of men's aging imaginations rather than the deep and dimensioned creatures that real girls are.

Some boys feel they are like girls,They are gentle, and like their hair in curls.

But some boys like boys more -And some girls make other girls hearts soar!

Some girls feel they are like boys, They play rough, they like a lot of noise.

That's stupid." I laughed into his chest. "Boys can't save girls." "You're right." He kissed my temple. "It's the other way around.

This is the gift of focus, or wilful denial, and it is something boys are particularly good at. Girls—at least where I grew up—tend to be more emotionally balanced and sane, and therefore find the kind of all-excluding concentration you need to care about dinosaurs, taxonomy, philately and geopolitical schemes a bit worrying and sad. Girls can grasp the bigger picture (i.e., it might be better not to destroy the world over this), where boys have a perfect grip on the fine print (i.e., this insidious idea is antithetical to our existence and cannot be allowed to flourish alongside our peace-loving, free society). Note carefully how it is probably better to let the girls deal with weapons of mass destruction.

Tears are the biggest weapon used by every girl against the boys with a success rate of hundred percent.

Boys, at war, so far away, will naturally droop, both in body and mind, from lack of a particular girl’s snuggling and cuddling.

When boys unite hearts with all souls and creatures they become gentle men.When girls unite hearts with all souls and creatures they become gentle women.When humanity unites with the heart of the ONE, an era of peace and love shall return to earth.

The girl. Was that who I was? I was the girl just like they were the boys. Was that how we were going to address each other for the entirety of this year? How family-feeling.

I hate gender stereotypes like girls love princesses and boys like guns. . . my point is that tying particular behaviors and interests to particular gender seems to be the major reason guys who like dance get called names.

Since you haven’t got a name,” he said. “I guess you can pick one for yourself. Would you like to pick one for me to write down?”She stopped rocking and looked at him. “I can do that? It’s legal and everything?”He smiled. “It’s a free country again,” he said. “At least in theory.”She nodded. “And when I pick a name it can be any name I want?”He nodded.“What’s your name?”“Victor,” he said. “Vic, for short.”“Okay,” she said, leaning forward and taking the pad from under his large thing hands. “How do you spell that?”He spelled it and she wrote it down. Her handwriting was perfectly small and legible. “Can I be Victor, too?” she said, looking up from the pad.He smirked. “It’s a boy’s name,” he said. “You’re a girl. You have to add an i and an a to the end if you want to make it a girl’s name.”She looked down at the name she had written and added the letters i and a to the end. “Victoria,” she said, passing the notepad back to the cop.“Hello, Victoria,” he said, smiling, taking the pad and pen back and presenting his hand for a shake. “It’s nice to meet you, officially.

Lovely high ceilings,' I said. 'If you were very tall, you'd feel quite comfortable in here.

Girls are nothing to be afraid of, no matter the kind. Boys, on the other hand.

Why is it that every time a girl says a guy is bothering her, it's fluffed off with oh, he just likes you, as if that makes it okay?

You love her for a life time and still you are a stranger.

Boys find love in pants and girls find in pockets.

We look for pretty girls we can say bad things to. No one shows up.

Personally, I'd prefer a guy who wants to see my boobs.

Girls do not dress for boys. They dress for themselves and, of course, each other. If girls dressed for boys they’d just walk around naked at all times.

I'm not trouble at all. I'm just a guy trying to get a girl to give him the time of day. I'm like every song on the radio.

To tell the truth, girls are no longer the way they used to be. They play gangsters, nowadays, just like boys. They organize rackets. They plan holdups and practice karate. They will rape defenseless adolescents. They wear pants... Life has become impossible.

I love you, Tess McGee. I don’t do big funny or heartfelt speeches in front of people at birthday parties, but I’m excellent in private alcoves in beer gardens.” He paused. “Okay, that sounded really bad, what I mean is …”I kissed him into silence. I pressed my forehead against his with a sigh. “I love you, too, Toby. In fact, that’s what I was going to tell you before we walked into the beer garden. Right before the really bad singing started.”Toby chuckled. He let out a sigh of relief. “Ready to reminisce?”I whispered my final word before he closed the distance.“Always.

I don't settle in any other area of my life when it comes to excellence, so why should I lower my standards when it comes to boys?

He taunted me, "Pony boy, pony boy," because I liked ponies. Pony boy. He always came to vent his anger of dragons on me. They must really like us. They hide behind their Wasp Queen and pretend to hate us dragons, but in truth they love us. Why else would they bother with fucking us? That sentence probably turned you off. Thing is, I'm a very vulgar boy.-Chance Karrucci (the Sweet Dragon)

I'm not alone," said the boy. "I've got a puppy.

Really? We are being herded on a bus to drive across town to an all-boy academy where we disembark and join our lonely counterparts on a dance floor. Sounds like a scorecard situation to me.

The dance that I wasn't going to attend in about a jillion years just turned into a make-out session with random boys we have never met.

Boys don’t cry—or at least that’s what everybody’s supposed to believe.

If you put enough closets together, you have enough space for a room. If you put enough rooms together, you have enough room for a house. If you put enough houses together, you have space for a town, then a city, then a nation, then a world.

If you put enough closets together, you have enough space for a room. If you put enough rooms together, you have enough space for a house. If you put enough houses together, you have space for a town, then a city, then a nation, then a world.

We made this stupid rule and this stupid rule.Boys are not allowed to love each other.Then we painted a bison on the wall.

You know, when I came home after our day in the city, I just crashed, thinking about Remi and how much I missed him. And then the next day was worse, And when you walked up to me at that ice cream machine, I just felt myself crumble inside. Around Remi, I felt like I was always trying to act like I was good enough. But around you, I don't want to pretend or hide. That's why I didn't say anything in the cafeteria that day, I knew that in five seconds, I'd be crying on your shoulder.""That's what it's there for, Ethan."Alek leaned in, took Ethan's face in his hands, and kissed him.

I don’t have a crush on her! Yet!”“Say no more, Dylan-whatever your middle name is-Blair!”“David.”“Whatever. By the power and duty of big brother, I command you to not have a crush on my sister, until I know you better enough!”“That’s actually quite fair.” “But I don’t have a crush on her!

The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.

And I wanted Jordan, because if he wanted me back it would mean I wasn't ordinary. A guy like him wouldn't settle for that.

There was a table laid with jellies and trifles, with a party hat beside each place, and a birthday cake with seven candles on it in the center of the table. The cake had a book drawn on it, in icing. My mother, who had organized the party, told me that the lady at the bakery said that they had never put a book on a birthday cake before, and that mostly for boys it was footballs or spaceships. I was their first book.

It’s been four years since Justin kissed his best friend Lucas when they were both just 12. Then Justin, afraid of what it meant, afraid of how he felt, afraid of what it made him, ran and has been running from and avoiding Lucas for these four years. The thing about running is that no matter how fast you run, the past always catches up with you, and when faced with his past and all the things he’s missed, Justin finds he doesn’t want to run anymore. Now Justin wants to try to make things right with Lucas; he wants his best friend back. But maybe it's too late. Maybe Lucas has moved on. Read the story to find out if Justin is successful. This story isn't only about internalized homophobia and the hurtful things it leads gay kids to do to themselves and others. It is much more about truth, love and hurt and coming to terms with those things, forgiving yourself, and loving yourself enough to hold yourself accountable.

It’s tough enough to be a straight boy in a small town high school looking for the love of your life. But at least your possible loves are all out in the open.

Juvenalius, 15 and gay, has been raised in a difficult family and has been held in his aunt's Diana suffocating iron grip for all of his life. He has been made to feel worthless and ashamed; with no freedom, only obedience. Yet this begins to change one day when he meets a boy named Davis at his high school who has drawn the meaningful letter 'C' on his right hand. Now Juvenalius has hope but his behavioral changes are seen as an act of defiance in his aunt's eyes until she catches Juvenalius and Davis kissing out back under the school's library windows. Then Juve's life is unexpectedly transformed.

I was on my way to talk to Davis when the car hit me". . . . . . "A dark figure emerged from the shadows, half-lit by the glittering streetlight and the pale glow of the moon". . . . . . . "Huge black wings erupted out of her back like a blooming rose. She was beautiful." . . . . "I knew who this woman was.’Are you Death?'" . . . . . “'Most people have something holding them down to this world,' she said, 'like a tether on a balloon. It could be something material, a person, or persons, an unfinished goal. There are many reasons to want to keep living. I wonder, Juvenalius, what is yours?'I smiled just thinking about it. 'His name’s Davis.'Her hand stroked my cheek so gently I wanted to cry. 'Tell me about him,' she whispered."And Juvenalius does. And you will be transfixed as Juve's first friend comes to life in his memory in this Tale with a gay twist.

Juvenalius has problems... though like most kids on the threshold of sexual awareness he only knows life sucks... he isn't clear about why. His mother rants on and on about the iniquity of his school having a gay straight alliance. She's quite safe about that, as Ryan is too shy to join, or is that scared? His only friend is a dog so the question of boy or girl-friend hardly arises... until he gets a valentine... from the least likely boy in the school.

Church is so confusing for Juvenalius. His new pastor preaches nothing but hate and condemnation of gays and lesbians, but no matter how carefully he reads his Bible, he can’t find where it says God hates him. Will things change when Juve's boyfriend Devis suggests that they all go to his church instead?

What's it like for a young teen of barely 14, trying to cope with all the normal problems of adolescence, and wrestling with the realization that he's gay on top of all that? Juvenalius struggles with accepting himself and with the idea of coming out, as well as trying to find a boy who he can love and be loved back in return. Narrated by him, find out how he deals with it all and how those important to his life help.

It’s much, much tougher when you’re a 17 year-old gay boy, part of only 10% or less of the school population and your possible loves are all in hiding, just as you are, due to the fear of being socially ostracized, laughed at, condemned and physically harassed by your peers.

Maybe some people enter in your life to create wonderful memories before they leave. Its hard to come to terms with that whether they walk away alive or dead.The only thing we can do is keeping that person in your memory as long as you can. That person does not need to please you like a girlfriend or a boy-friend but they can make you happy.That person does not need to cherish you like parents, but they can give you warmth & they are always ready to protect you.That person does not need to make us laugh at all times like friends, but they can make you smile.That some one who you won't go into hysterics when they leave, but they will always be in your memory forever

Maybe some people enter in your life to create wonderful memories before they leave. Its hard to come to terms with that whether they walk away alive or dead.The only thing we can do is keeping that person in your memory as long as you can. That person does not need to please you like a girlfriend or a boy-friend but they can make you happy.That person does not need to cherish you like parents, but they can give you warmth & they are always ready to protect you.That person does not need to make us laugh at all times like friends, but they can make you smile.That some one who you won't go into hysterics when they leave, but they will always be in your memory forever.

Maybe some people enter in your life to create wonderful memories before they leave. Its hard to come to terms with that whether they walk away alive or dead.The only thing we can do is keeping that person in your memory as long as you can. That person does not need to please you like a girlfriend or a boy-friend but they can make you happy.That person does not need to cherish you like parents, but they can give you warmth & they are always ready to protect you.That person does not need to make us laugh at all times like friends, but they can make you smile.That some one who you won't go into hysterics when they leave, but they will always be in your memory forever. JUVENALIUS

We Boys and Men need to know how to Love. Though It may sometimes hurt, we need to persevere and party it out.

The greatest people and most successful ones are the ones who never went to school . Sure.

I unconsciously decided that, even if it wasn't an ideal world, it should be so and painted only the ideal aspects of it - pictures in which there are no drunken slatterns or self-centered mothers . . . only foxy grandpas who played baseball with kids and boys who fished from logs and got up circuses in the back yard.

When a girl cries, few things are more worthless than a boy.

He snuffles. Oh, no.He's not going to cry, is he? Because even though it's sweet when guys cry, I am so not prepared for this.Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.

Guns, she was reminded then, were not for girls. They were for boys. They were invented by boys. They were invented by boys who had never gotten over their disappointment that accompanying their own orgasm there wasn't a big boom sound.

Boys always make things more complicated.

Well, Jack, we have taken the Macedonian, and your share of the prize, if we get her in safely, may be two hundred dollars; what will you do with it?” Stephen Decatur, commanding the frigate United States, North Atlantic, near the Azores Islands, 1812.“One hundred will go to my mother, sir, and the other I shall spend on schooling.” Jack Creamer, aged ten.

Come sit, dear," the old woman said. "We were just discussing kelpies and changelings."I turned a delightfully amused face at Ronan, hoping to see him embarrassed to be caught in a world of fantasy, but his face was impassive, completely unperturbed. Those were the hardest boys to ignore: the ones that weren't concerned with your opinion of them, not afraid to be caught listening to fairytales.

I felt drunk on Chase and high on summertime. Why did that sound just like a country song?

You must tell Lady Alanna that sometime. I'd do it from a distance.

There are boys you look at and want to touch with your mouth, and there are boys you look at and want to wear one of those surgical masks everyone in China had during bird flu. There are a lot more bird-flu boys at large.

wake up who cares about little boys that talk too much

I don't know why you care. He doesn't even know you're there

Won't you be my girlfriend I'll treat you goodI know you hear your friends when they say you should 'Cause if you were my girlfriend I'd be your shining star The one to show you where you are

Anyway, it was Oscar who called me to remind me that our nephew, Lydia's son Garnett, was turning eleven years old. Fuck my life. I hated that kid. He smelled like asparagus, and he sweated way too much for a healthy child; but then Garnett, given his propensity for biting teachers and catching chipmunks in the backyard only to bury them alive, was no normal kid. He was a case study for sociopathic behavior in the making. A walking, talking, farting, sweaty, odorous, chipmunk-burying cry for help.

Most young men are such bores. They haven't lived long enough to learn that they are not the wonders to the world they are to their mothers.

Always live the adventure.

A teenager boy is a monstrous cyborg, an unfeeling, beastly machine, not fully human, and not housebroken. Rumbustious teenage boys are an infernal organism disdainful of everything, yet intent of contributing to human evolution.

Black as night, sweet as sin.

Do real boys actually call girls baby? I don't have enough experience to know. I do know that if a guy ever called me baby, I'd probably laugh in his face. Or choke him.

I liked that he was a tenured professor in the Department of Slightly Crooked Smiles with a dual appointments in the Department of Having a Voice that Made My Skin Feel More Like Skin.

I didn't answer, but, please—nothing is obvious with boys. For such simple creatures, they are quite baffling.

Do you like him much?'I told you I liked him a little. Where is the use of caring for him so very much: he is full of faults.'Is he?'All boys are.

There’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm.

First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys.

Did you read the part that says, 'Your hair is like a flock of goats'? How romantic is that? Or that other line, 'Your neck is like the tower of David.' Oh, now, that sounds real attractive! If some guy tried those lines on me, I'm sure I'd fall instantly in love with him.

You know, you hear about these movements for women, and for children, and for people who are any race but white, and you think that it's about time that men got a movement. Think about it. Guys can't play the piano, or dance, or sing. We can't cry, or be too happy, or show any emotion for that matter. The only thing we have left to us is anger, and even that we have to bottle up. Boys should be able to express what they feel and not have to endure people laughing at them, forcing them to wonder if they're gay or not, just because they like to paint.

Is there some kind of rule for when Sam should be a boy and when he's a Wolf?""A Wolf lifts his leg and yellows up the snow. A boy has to use the toilet.""And that will work?""Only if he needs to pee.

...freedom being the sauce best beloved by the boyish soul.

It's a myth that boys don't like to gossip.

I need a boy who thinks with his big head, not his little one. Since they do not exist, I have fashioned my own.

I would not trade any of these features for anybody else’s. I wouldn’t trade the small thin-lipped mouth that makes me resemble my nephew. I wouldn’t even trade the acne scar on my right cheek, because that recurring zit spent more time with me in college than any boy ever did.

Who knows, he may grow up to be President someday, unless they hang him first!" Aunt Polly about Tom Sawyer

But Aunt Margaret doesn't like boys," objected Elnora."Well, she likes me, and I used to be a boy. ...

Genius or jock, it didn't seem to matter. Boys were born with a gene that kept girls, no matter how smart they might be, from understanding them.

Many boys, probably most boys, have a first love before they fall in love with a woman. It begins the moment two boys realize they'd die for one another, that each cares more for the other than he does for himself, and it lasts usually until a second love comes on the scene, because most hearts aren't big enough to love more than one person like that.

Boys like it when you talk to them as if they were grown men—at least he always did when he was a kid—because they pretend that’s what they are anyhow, grown-up men, and they do it for their entire lives.

A thing of beauty is a boy forever.

All her life she'd had little interest in the workings of boys' minds, which she imagined only as a set of flimsy pinwheels turning in the direction of obvious things.

Broken boys are dangerous, but broken men are lovely.

In the whole history of my letters, of my liking boys, not once has a boy liked me back at the same time as I liked him. It was always me alone, longing after a boy, and that was fine, that was safe

One had to be careful with elbows and boys

I don’t like boys.”I shook my head. “That’s no impediment to them. Madame raised gentlemen of both sexes.

She wondered if all boys were like this, their meanness a self defense.

I don't understand boys.

Do not go looking for boys in the dark They will say pretty things then leave you with scars. Do go looking for boys in the park For that is where the true gentlemen are.

Boys torment each other when there’s nothing else to do and no Frenchmen to fight.

The thought of Peter and John Ambrose McClaren in the same space together again is discomforting. Where would I even look?

I was not the equal of my cousins in athletic ability or good looks, but I'd like to think God evened the score by granting me a modicum of common sense, which sometimes seems to be sadly missing in most descendants of Walter Kaminski, who have shown a tendency to live for the moment and think with their peckers.

He told me once that he didn't fear conscription as much as everyone else because the dozen bloodthirsty girls he was leaving behind were far more dangerous.

There are boys who will make you cry, and then there are boys who are worth spending your fabulous energy on.

He hadn’t said a word to me until we had been roommates for eight months. And even then it had only been, “You’re wearing my socks.

Only a very careless father would be inclined to tell you what I'm going to tell you. I suppose I'm about to act like the disreputable uncle who everyone fears to leave the boys with because he encourages them to drink distilled spirits, stay up late, and do more than merely kiss girls." "Uh... what?" Mags replied, utterly bewildered now."I am going," Jakyr said, leaning toward Mags, his eyes dancing with laughter, "to tell you how to please a woman."Max thought for a moment his face that caught fire, because surely it couldn't burn like that without some outside help.

Of all the emotional relationships in life, is there any more delicate, more noble, and more intense than a boy's deep and yet so totally bashful love for another boy? The kind of love that never speaks, never dares give way to a caress, a glance, or a word, the kind of vigilant love that bitterly grieves over every shortcoming or imperfection in the one who is loved, a love which is longing and admiration and negation of self, and which is pride and humility and calmly breathing happiness.

Everything man sees he takes for a toy. 'Thus is he always, forever a boy.

I was told very sternly at the hospital to avoid boys at all costs. Mess up your levels.""Oh, they do that!" Amy laughs. "Probably best to leave them alone for a while. The secret, though, is to start with one you're not that bothered about."What is the point in that?

All these boys were lethal. It really wasn't fair.

What is it with boys? How do they slide into fucked-upness so quickly, with such natural ease?

There is a differenece between a bad boy and a boy that's bad for you.

Indeed, he seemed utterly unaware of his effect on the boys around him.

- Boys my age are boring. They have nothing to say and half of them seem like complete idiots.I was going to say that they didn't improve with age but didn't want to spoil her illusions.

Boys. Drau or mortal, they were all the same.

High time he had another tutor,' said Larry. 'You leave the house for five minutes and come back and find him disembowelling Moby Dick on the front porch.' 'I'm sure he didn't mean any harm,' said Mother, ' but it was rather silly for him to do it on the veranda.

Every time Nyx thought she’d gotten out of the business of killing boys, she shot another one.

Metaphors are something grown-ups use when they can't set troublesome boys on fire.

I had never been interested in boys and had no notion that I ever would, seeing being in love and loving as a great tangle in which you could lose your head as well as your heart. Yet standing there that afternoon looking at the young man. I could well see how such knots in life were made.

Dill was in hearty agreement with this plan of action. Dill was becoming something of a trail anyways, following Jem about... He only grew closer to Jem. (Lee 55)

If Levi were a dog, he'd be a golden retriever. If he were a game, he'd be a Ping-Pong, incessant and bouncing and light.

Why are all pretty boys insane?

We don't have the luxury of thinking ... Some people make all the decisions for us

The destructive effects of video games are not on boys' cognitive abilities or their reaction times, but on their motivation and their connectedness with the real world.

I am a guy," I say."And I hate boys," she says."But a guy's different," I say."Maybe a little," she says.

I glanced over, he was still looking at me. ''Uh... do you need something?''''No.''''Oh, okay.''''It's just...'' he leaned in, ''...you have an onion ring taped to your back.''''...Excuse me?''''There is a ring of onion applied to you back with an adhesive strip.''I searched his eyes, he seemed amused, but sincere.My hand flew to my back with a look of horror and there it was, with ketchup and everything.

It's not macho to read? Nonsense. Reading is a stouthearted activity, disporting courage, keenness, stick-to-itness. It is also, in my experience, one of the most thrilling and enduring delights of life, equal to a home run, a slamdunk, or breaking the four-minute mile.

She could think of no other reason for this boy to continue to visit her if not to use her in some way.

There is something inside all boys that drives us to go away again and again and again.

But I didn't. I didn't say anything, if only because I had no idea how to respond to such an overture. If my experience with friends was sparse, what I knew about boys- other than a competitors for grades or class rank- was nonexistent

We believed optimistically that Laurie was a reformed character. I told my husband, on the last day of Laurie's confinement, that actually one good scare like that could probably mark a child for life, and my husband pointed out that kids frequently have an instinctive desire to follow the good example rather than the bad, once they find out which is which. We agreed that a good moral background and thorough grounding in the Hardy Boys would always tell in the long run.("Arch-Criminal")

Boys are found everywhere- on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerated them, adults ignore them and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair and the Hope of the future with a frog in its pocket. A boy is a magical creature- you can lock out of your workshop, but you can't lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can't get him out of your mind. Might as well give up- he is your captor, your jailor, your boss and your master- a freckled-faced, pint-sized, cat-chasing bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with two magic words- 'Hi, Dad!

Most boys have seasons of wishing they could die gloriously instead of just being grocery clerks and going on with their humdrum lives.

He finds himself bored by the shenanigans of highly spirited young men. Their concerns reside somewhere between balder and dash.

Don’t ever worry what the boys who don’t appreciate originality think of you. They’re fools.

The best boyfriends are the ones in books.

Sometimes I wish I was a guy. Life’s so much easier for them.

A nonhot boy stares at you and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy...well.

What George was thinking was that the late king Herod had been unjustly blamed for a policy which had been both statesmanlike and in the interests of the public. He was blaming the mawkish sentimentality of the modern legal system which ranks the evisceration and secret burial of small boys as a crime.

Boys. Nine times out of ten, they're wrong and the tenth time they made a lucky guess.

I wonder what it would be like to be with a boy who blushes when he looks at my skin.

He tip-toed past the double bed that had been placed in a corner - wrought-iron headboard, embroidered pillows, amulets against the evil-eye and a satiny, cobalt-blue bedspread. Blue was Iskender's favourite colour. It was the colour for boys, which meant the sky was a boy. So were the rivers and lakes. And the oceans, though he had yet to see one.

Well, first you have to be very, very funny. I have realized that it is essential for a boy to be funny. Otherwise, what is the point in a boy?

No, but I mean do you like him? You know, in the carnal sense."I rolled my eyes. "You've clearly been spending too much time with Dex.

Finally, I asked how you got a boy to like you back. She said, 'Just be yourself,' as though I had any idea who that might be.

These boys talk more than a pack ofwomen.

What a surprise. That boy doesn't have the sense God gave a cactus.

I thought guys were complicated. Maybe they are. But maybe they're easy and it's really me who's complicated.

She dressed in bohemian clothes, penned novels, panted, and yearned to roam forgotten corners of the world. She was habitually defiant and fearless, and when she felt controlled, as she often did, she could be irresistibly willfull. Mostly, she was bored silly by the vanilla sort boys who trailed her around, and by the stodgy set in Miami Beach.

lying in bed with Johnny Depp sussing out which males are what kind of pet from their clothes.

So weird,” Decker mumbled. “I thought she walked through walls.”“I guess she doesn't have to. This is how she kept getting my porno stash last summer,”Beckgrumbled. “I had it behind lock and key.”“Our porno stash. I told you to give it to Grandpa Louis. She leaves him alone.

Wasn't that awesome?" Seth asked.Warren cocked his head, his expression mildly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Kendra--it was pretty cool.""All boys belong in insane asylums," Kendra said.

Every guy seems nice until he’s not.

AHA!" interrupted Officer Shrift, making another note in his little book. "Just as I thought: boys are the cause of everything.

Good, stupid high school boys aren't worth It" She throws an arm over my shoulder. "They're trained to like a certain type of girl, with highlights and pretty nails- the kind who are good at remembering to put on lotion every morning after they shower." She smiles like she's got a dirty secret. "And let's face it..... sluts.

I’m doing boy detox. Like a diet, only for my emotional health.

Boys are unpredictable. This maybe not be news, but I'm starting to think it's one of the best things about them.

All I know is, he found out you left and he locked himself in the shed and barricaded the door. No one's seen him since," Doug said. "When I bolted, Sean and Evan were trying to boost Caleb up onto the roof so he could look through the skylight and make sure the kid wasn't dead or something.

Thanks to Scoop, I've learned a lot about how the male mind works, and as a result I've been having nightmares for months.

Boys are stupid, throw rocks at them.

Give a boy - ANY boy - enough time, and he WILL eventually pick his nose!

Evan stopped completely. He was staring at her with those intense eyes. Staring right into her. Just like he had in those couple of moments when she had thought for a split second, that he wanted to kiss her.

Guys who know how to use a blowdryer... Their hair is too long!

His [Luke]letter went something like this: "Dear Mr President, Thank you for introducing me to the Hall of Famers and for showing me the Oval Office. I think if I work really hard I will have a chance for both."The next time I saw the president I told him about my son's ambitious plans. His response was beautiful: "Never get between a boy and his dreams

When is there a boy, even in these materialistic times, to whom the call of the wild and the open road does not appeal? Maybe it is the primitive instinct, anyway it is there. With that key a great door may be unlocked, if it is only to admit fresh air and sunshine into lives that were otherwise grey.The heroes of the wild, the frontiersmen and explorers, the rovers of the seas, the airmen of the clouds, are pied pipers to the boys. Where they lead the boys will follow and these will dance to their tune when it sings the song of manliness and pluck, of adventure and high endeavors of efficiency and skill, of cheerful sacrifice of self for others. There's meat in this for the boy. There's soul in it.

Just two people in love.

Everything about us was entirely normal, really. We were as ordinary as anything we might come across in this world.

After seeing Dylan with the redhead, I sunk deeper into a depression. Even working at Lark’s house did nothing to distract me. I simply went through the motions. Fortunately, Lark was especially tired and slept most of the day, so she never noticed my bad mood. Harlow wasn’t as oblivious as we washed dishes after dinner. “What’s up, stinky pup?” I rolled my eyes at her nickname for me. “Nothing.” “She doesn’t want to deal with the leaves,” Jace said from behind us. Our ten year old brother crossed his arms like Dad often did when suspicious. “See, she got spooked last night and bailed on raking the leaves. They ended up blowing around the yard and now she’s trying to get out of raking them again.” “That’s not it.” “Sure, it is,” he said, his dark hair covering his narrowed eyes. “What else could it be?” Grumpy, I decided to punish him. “It’s about a sexy guy.” Jace’s face twisted into horror. “Eww!” he cried, running out of the room. Harlow and I laughed at the sound of him telling on me to Mom. “In a few years, girls will be all he thinks about,” I said, returning to the dishes. Harlow leaned her head against my shoulder. “Sexy guy, huh?” “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your fight?” Harlow glanced at the clock. “Yeah. When I get back, I want to hear about the sexy guy making you sigh so much.” As my sister dressed to go, I finished the dishes and struggled to stop sighing. I was still grumpy when Dad got home. In this living room, he told Harlow to be careful. She said something and laughed. When Harlow started fighting at the Thunderdome, she called herself Joy and hid it from our parents. She didn’t think they’d approve and she was right. Harlow and I were naïve to assume they wouldn’t find out long before she told them the truth though. Dad might be a pastor, but he learned about the Lord in prison. As a member of the Reapers, Dad had eyes and ears all over Ellsberg. He likely knew Harlow was fighting before she threw her first punch. Entering the kitchen, Dad smiled at me. “Stop talking about cute boys around your brother. He has a sensitive gag reflex.” I laughed as he got himself a beer and joined me at the sink. “Mom said we have leftovers. Mind warming them up for me?” Shaking my head, I filled a plate and set it in the microwave. “Are you okay?” Dad asked, frowning at me. “You look worn down.” “I had a long day.” “You sure that’s it?” We watched each other and I remembered the first time he asked if I was okay. Five years earlier when I was brought to this house and met my new family. I didn’t remember a lot from that day besides thinking these people were too good to be true. I figured they’d wait until Kirk was gone then hurt me. I couldn’t remember when I knew Dad was a good man who loved me. Not like my real dad loved me. Tad felt the kind of love a person died to protect. I saw the love in his eyes as he waited for his food to finish warming. “I wish I was stronger.” “So do I,” he said softly. “Everyone does. They just don’t admit it. That’s what makes you so brave. You can admit your fears.” Even thinking he was full of shit, I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” Taking his plate out of the microwave, he inhaled. “Mom makes the best meatloaf.” “I made it.” Grinning, Dad nudged me with his hip. “If you make this meatloaf for the boy you’re hung up on, you’ll own him.” “I’ll remember that.

He's holding my hand! A boy is holding my hand! This is happening! I should let go. I should blush and act shy. Like a girl from the movies. But that's not what I do. I hold on.

UGH. Boys. They're like French class--no matter how much I study, I'll never be fluent in the language.

If you ignore the mountain, doesn't mean mountain will ignore you too..

I have had my share with boys,longings are for men heron.

It was not very long afterwards that Michael woke up one morning with a curious feeling inside him. He knew, the moment he opened his eyes, that something was wrong but he was not quite sure what it was. "What is today, Mary Poppins?" He enquired, pushing the bedclothes away from him. "Tuesday," said Mary Poppins. "Go and turn on your bath. Hurry!" she said, as he made no effort to move. He turned over and pulled the bedclothes up over his head and the curious feeling increased. "What did I say?" said Mary Poppins in that cold, clear voice that was always a Warning. Michael knew now what was happening to him. He knew he was going to be naughty.

Apparently if you want to get a boy to like you, you go sort of mysterious and icy and cool. That’s what my cousin said and she has loads of boyfriends and snogging-type experiences.

I'm not some character from a boys' manga." ~Yukio

The reason girls can't find a good guy is because they look in the wrong places. Go to a library. Guys at a party are just looking for the next girl to fuck.

Boys do not long for fathers who will usher them through the gauntlet of psychological disconnect. They long for fathers who have themselves survived intact. Boys do not ache for their father's masculinity. They ache for their fathers' hearts.

I keep myself busy with things to do, but every-time i pause, i still think f you.

My cousin Georgia says that boys are like gazelles. She says the get alarmed when they get close to girls. And they have to leap off into the woods like gazelles in trousers. Or have I just made that up?

Boys are like minced meat, half nut, half pig