Little Fires Everywhere

by Celeste Ng

At that moment Moody had a sudden clear understanding of what had already happened that morning: his life had been divided into a before and an after, and he would always be comparing the two.

Cuteee i really want them to be tgt :(( but girlie doesnt deserve moody!!!

Moody had never thought much about money, because he had never needed to. Lights went on when he flipped switches; water came out when he turned the tap. Groceries appeared in the refrigerator at regular intervals and reappeared as cooked meals on the table at mealtimes. He had had an allowance since he was ten, starting at five dollars per week and increasing steadily with inflation and age up to its current twenty dollars. Between that and birthday cards from aunts and relatives, each reliably containing a folded bill, he had enough for a used book from Mac’s Backs, or the occasional CD, or new guitar strings, whatever he felt he needed.

now that i think about it, i never really realized how lucky and “rich” i am that i never have to worry about the electricity, the water, the foods, and basically all my living supports and needs.

Anita in New York City.

just so i dont forget who she is…

She copied her favorite poems into a beat-up spiral notebook that she kept with her at all times. “So they’ll always be with me,” she said, and when she finally allowed Moody to read some of them, he was speechless. He wanted to twine himself in the tiny curlicues of her handwriting. “Beautiful,” he sighed, and Pearl’s face lit up like a lantern,

the next day Moody brought his guitar, taught her to play three chords, and bashfully sang one of his songs for her, which he’d never sung for anyone else.

He would crack dumb jokes and tell stories and dredge up bits of trivia, anything to make her smile. And at the same time, in his mind, he was roaming the city, searching desperately for the next place he could take her, the next wonder of suburban Cleveland he could display, because when he ran out of places to show her, he was sure, she would disappear.

Izzy, at ten, had been apprehended sneaking into the Humane Society in an attempt to free all the stray cats. “They’re like prisoners on death row,” she’d said.

For the recital—with the aid of a mirror and a Sharpie—Izzy had written NOT YOUR PUPPET across her forehead and cheeks just before taking the stage, where she stood stock-still while the others, disconcerted, danced around her.

it facinates me how children’s brains work sometimes. instead of judging her way of thinking, why not try understanding her perspective in life?

All her life, her crushes had been from afar; she’d never had the courage to speak to any of the boys who caught her fancy.

SAME!!! ARE YOU ME??? ARE WE THE SAME PERSON?!?!?! im literally a pussy when it comes to BOYS

“Were you wanted?” Mia said. “Oh, yes. You were wanted. Very, very much.”

To a parent, your child wasn’t just a person: your child was a place, a kind of Narnia, a vast eternal place where the present you were living and the past you remembered and the future you longed for all existed at once.

THIS MAKES ME SAD BYE

All her life, she had learned that passion, like fire, was a dangerous thing. It so easily went out of control. It scaled walls and jumped over trenches. Sparks leapt like fleas and spread as rapidly; a breeze could carry embers for miles. Better to control that spark and pass it carefully from one generation to the next, like an Olympic torch. Or, perhaps, to tend it carefully like an eternal flame: a reminder of light and goodness that would never—could never—set anything ablaze. Carefully controlled. Domesticated. Happy in captivity. The key, she thought, was to avoid conflagration.

Rules existed for a reason: if you followed them, you would succeed; if you didn’t, you might burn the world to the ground.

but rules are also made to be broken.

“I’m not planning on seeing anyone else. Is that what you wanted to know?”

RULE NUMBER ONE: NEVER TRUST A BOY

But Lexie would demand every intimate detail, would tell Serena Wong and everyone in the school would know within a week.

well… thats very LEXIE of LEXIE…..

For some time, Pearl had been increasingly aware that Moody’s feelings toward her were different, in quality and quantity, than hers toward him.

IM SO???? POOR MOODY HE DOESNT DESERVE THIS

“Most of the time, everyone deserves more than one chance. We all do things we regret now and then. You just have to carry them with you.”

How did you weigh a mother’s love against the cost of raising a child?)

What made someone a mother? Was it biology alone, or was it love?)

“Like after a prairie fire. I saw one, years ago, when we were in Nebraska. It seems like the end of the world. The earth is all scorched and black and everything green is gone. But after the burning the soil is richer, and new things can grow.”

She smelled, Mia thought suddenly, of home, as if home had never been a place, but had always been this little person whom she’d carried alongside her.

Life isn’t fair, or Fair doesn’t always mean right.

“Some pictures,” Mia said, “belong to the person who took them. And some belong to the person inside them.