Cars are little privacy cocoons that we take with us. If you could refuel while driving you could, theoretically, stay moving forever.
BARRY LYGAI just have an allergic reaction to lung cancer. Gives me tumors.
More Barry Lyga Quotes
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. . . but there’s a restraining order in place.’ She speaks slowly, choosing her words carefully. ‘I’m not supposed to be this close to you.’ You were never supposed to be this close to me,’ I say, and I have no idea why.
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Look, my dad has a saying – we’ll burn that bridge when get to it. OK? You get it? Worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
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It’s not an easy choice, but that’s OK. Easy doesn’t equal good. Difficulty doesn’t equal bad. It’s just life, is all.
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And I think of nothing. I think of nothing but Rachel. What happens next is pure magic, and is for us and us alone.
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At the end of the day, it’s a series of individual challenges played out against a team defense. It’s a psersonal test every time I step into the batter’s box: Can I do better than the last time? And that’s why I love it.
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And my parents made me want i am. So what? We get stuff from our parents, but we also get stuff from the world around us. From people around us. And at the end of the day, we’re us.
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Are you stalking me, Mr. Fulton?” The idea both amused and horrified Jazz.
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If I think she’ hot and it turns out she’s a psychopath, then what does that say about me? I’m totally not ready for that kind of therapy.
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What was the opposite of linkage blindness? What described being certain of something without any kind of evidence?…The term was faith.
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The best revenge is living well, my dad told me once.
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It’s a good day when a goddess gets on the school-bus with you.
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It just means that if someone hates you, they still have feelings for you. If they really didn’t care about you, they’d just forget about you. They wouldn’t even waste the time hating you.
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Anger and hatred, when left unfed, bleed away like air from a punctured tire, over time and days and years. Forgiveness is stealth.
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Jazz hadn’t given her many details of exactly what life in the Dent house had been like, but he’d told her enough that she knew it wasn’t hearts and flowers. Well, except for the occasional heart cut from a chest. And the kind of flowers you send to funerals.
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I do what I’ve trained my whole life to do. I watch the ball. I keep my eye on the ball. I never stop watching. I watch it as it sails past me and lands in the catcher’s mitt, a perfect and glorious strike three.
BARRY LYGA