“I’m here because the reason I get up each morning, needs me as much as I need her.” -Jax Stone”

He seems like a man who knows what he wants, and the problem is he wants what I want.

Identifying pain in others was easy for me. I was drawn to it in some strange perverse way.

This was why I loved my Grana. Being with her always made me laugh. She accepted life for what it was. She didn’t pretend or put on airs. She was just Grana.

I dropped my phone on the floor and let the pain assail me. I’d given my heart away to someone who didn’t want it. Even knowing that, I didn’t regret it. I just wanted him to want me. I just wanted him to love me too.

She frowned.”You’re not very friendly.” I let out a short laugh.”What?I’m not friendly to a ghost who floats into my house and starts touching me?Well,excuse my rudeness but this is a little disturbing.

The love she left behind will be the reason dreams are reached. She was the rock in a world that was crumbling. Her strength will remain. It’s in our hearts.

That’s okay. You an be selfish with me all you want. I’m yours.

The heart wants who the heart wants. We can’t help that.

Adjusting to Beau being a caveman over a girl had been almost as hard as seeing him with Ash. Beau didn’t do jealous, not until Ashton had become his. Now he was a freaking lunatic.

Just maybe I was worthy of love.

What are you doing?” “I’m going to enjoy a long overdue make-out session with my girl. That’s what I’m doing.” I explained, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me with one shove of my foot.

Just hold me please,” she replied. I’d hold her forever if I could.

No excuses; those were just weak.

Don’t frown beautiful, you fascinate me.

I don’t need designer things. And YOU are designer, Rush.

He stole my breathe away the moment we first spoke. He’s my air.” -Sadie White

He is not famous. It may be that he never will be. It may be that when his life at last comes to an end he will leave no more trace of his sojourn on earth than a stone thrown into a river leaves on the surface of the water.

Nothing surely is as potent as a law that may not be disobeyed. It has the force of the water drop that hollows the stone.

What are a handful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in their hands?

Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.

Why should you think that beauty, which is the most precious thing in the world, lies like a stone on the beach for the careless passer-by to pick up idly?

A small dainty task, if it be really daily, will beat the labours of a spasmodic Hercules.

I think we ripple on into others, just like a stone puts its ripples into a brook. That, for me, too, is a source of comfort. It kind of, in a sense, negates the sense of total oblivion.

It is the city of mirrors, the city of mirages, at once solid and liquid, at once air and stone.