Words worth keeping

How wrong is it for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself?

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper,That we may record our emptiness.

For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery.

Isabelle drifted over, Jace a pace behind her. She was wearing a long black dress with boots and an even longer cutaway coat of soft green velvet, the color of moss. "I can't believe you did it!" she exclaimed. "How did you get Magnus to let Jace leave?""Traded him for Alec," Clary said.Isabelle looked mildly alarmed. "Not permanently?""No," said Jace. "Just for a few hours. Unless I don't come back," he added thoughtfully. "In which case, maybe he does get to keep Alec. Think of it as a lease with an option to buy."Isabelle looked dubious. "Mom and Dad won't be pleased if they find out.""That you freed a possible criminal by trading away your brother to a warlock who looks like a gay Sonic the Hedgehog and dresses like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?" Simon inquired. "No, probably not.

At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid, and it hurts, but then it's over and you're relieved.

And still, after all this time,The sun never says to the earth,"You owe Me."Look what happens withA love like that,It lights the Whole Sky.

Don't be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.

Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times?" Mo had said..."As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells...and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower...both strange and familiar.

Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.

You don't remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.

You're not to be so blind with patriotism that you can't face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it.

We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.

They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now