Always do what you’re afraid to do.
E. LOCKHARTThere’s something about seeing a guy’s feelings written down, something about him taking that risk and committing that heart to paper, that means so much more than anything he could just say.
More E. Lockhart Quotes
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She doesn’t feel like crying anymore.
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I don’t know if there is a one for me. I think I might like variety.
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Love is when you give someone else the power to destroy you, and you trust them not to do it.
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Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.
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If those are your friends, you’ve got no need for enemies.
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I sit around too much, waiting for other people to do stuff and angsting about stuff they’ve done, without doing anything myself.
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Frankie appreciated both the accolades and the rejections equally, because both meant she’d had an impact. She wasn’t a person who needed to be liked so much as she was a person who liked to be notorious.
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We should not accept an evil we can change.
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8. Fact: It is a bad idea to date a known cheater, because even if he doesn’t cheat on you, you will always know he’s capable of it and will never fully trust him. Then you will become even more insecure and neurotic than you already are.
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…a box where she was expected to be sweet and sensitive (but not oversensitive); a box for young and pretty girls who were not as bright or powerful as their boyfriends. A box for people who were not forces to be reckoned with.
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Because on some level, even though it never turns out to be true, and even though I should know better, I still expect life to be like the movies.
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Never take a seat in the back of the room. Winners sit up front.
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My problem is I can think whatever I think-girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah – but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.
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You are my girlfriend,” whispered Matthew. ” You’re my girl and I’m your guy, and you’re my girl and I’m your guy. Let’s not fight.” -pg 126
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I looked at her. my lovely, tall mother with her pretty coil of hair and her hard, bitter mouth. Her veins were never open. Her heart never leapt out to flop helplessly on the lawn. She never melted into puddles. She was normal. Always. At any cost.
E. LOCKHART