Carry On (Simon Snow, #1)

by Rainbow Rowell

Nobody knows why my magic is the way it is. Why it goes off like a bomb instead of flowing through me like a fucking stream or however it works for everybody else.

Capes are optional, too; I’ve never worn one, they make me feel like a tit, but Penny likes them. Says she feels like Stevie Nicks.

When I’m by myself, magic is something personal. My burden, my secret. But at Watford, magic is just the air that we breathe. It’s what makes me a part of something bigger, not the thing that sets me apart.

We don’t get to ignore our responsibilities because we’re bored with them.”

Fiona is vindictive. She’s impatient. And sometimes she just wants to rage against the machine—even if she’s not exactly sure where the machine is or how to properly rage at it.

(Just when you think you’re having a scene without Simon, he drops in to remind you that everyone else is a supporting character in his catastrophe.)

“If you’re as good as your word, words should be good enough.”

“What you are is a fucking tragedy, Simon Snow. You literally couldn’t be a bigger mess.” He tries to kiss me, but I hold back—“And you like that?” “I love it,” he says. “Why?” “Because we match.”