Caighley > Caighley's Quotes

“We live on a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea, and you don’t believe in miracles?”
― Davina Bell, The End of the World Is Bigger than Love

“You found a new family when you became a wolf--that's what they're always saying here, that we're a pack. But having a new family doesn't mean you give up the old one. Just because you're adding something to who you are doesn't mean you have to give up who you used to be.”
― Amie Kaufman, Ice Wolves

“But I don’t do crowds.”
“Why?” I search his face, desperate to understand, desperate to see.
“Because that’s how it is.”
“But—”
“No. Don’t do that.” His voice hardens.
I take a step back. “Do what?”
“Stand there and tell me that if I just tried, if I just ‘put myself out there,’ I could get over it.” Though he’s still speaking barely above a whisper, it feels as though he’s shouting, and I take a step back. “Have you ever felt like your heart was about to beat itself to death? Like your lungs were seizing up? It’s not a pleasant experience. Your vision goes splotchy, and your body feels like it’s shredding itself inside. Hot sweats. Dry mouth. It feels like dying, and I’m sorry, but I don’t have to force myself to go through that because you think I should.” He pauses to take a slow breath and turns away. “The more I try to force myself to be something I’m not, the worse the attacks get. So no. I’m not going.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses

“What I wouldn’t give to have him look at me the way he looked at Will. Like I’m worth something. Like I’m an Artist-damned human being.”
He tugs his gloves off one finger at a time. Pursing his lips, he holds his hands up so I can see the cracked cuticles.
“They hate that I’m like this,” he says, his voice so quiet I have to lean in to hear him. “I try so hard to be the man who has it all together, who doesn’t worry, who’s solid as stone. And yet it’s never enough for them. Mother’s always looking for new treatments, a cure-all that would make me calm and collected like my brother, as though she cannot be happy with me as I am.”
I grasp his hands and pull them down to his knees so I can meet his eyes. “You are not weak because you are not stone. In fact, I would say you’re stronger because you feel things so acutely. The internal battles you fight every day—you’ve conquered far more than you give yourself credit for. Despite what they’ve made you believe, you do not need to apologize for the things that make you different. And you shouldn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses

“I shudder, gasping for air.
“Myra!”
Something grips my shoulders, and I flail against it.
“Breathe!” August’s voice is suddenly loud in my ears, and it jolts my vision clear.
He moved his hands from my shoulders to my face, cupping either side of it, holding my gaze steady with his.
“Breathe with me,” he says, more quietly this time. And then he inhales slowly.
The dagger drops from my hand, clattering away on the floor, and I wrap my hands around his, grounding myself in them.
And I breathe.
Together, we stand in the sunlight.
In and out. In and out.
And slowly, ever so slowly, the tidal wave of panic and fear ebbs. Air fills my lungs, and my body sags.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper after several moments.
“Never apologize for feeling your fear,” August says, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Not to me.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses

“Warm tingles trail under my skin, and I shiver.
“Please,” he says, dropping my hands so he can tuck one of his into my hair and tilt my head up to him. “Come with me to the symposium. And then come with me to the pub and the museum, to the park, to the sunset, to the sky.”
His cinnamon breath is warm on my lips, and I remember the night on the balcony under the stars when I wanted so badly for him to close the distance between us.
“You speak like a poet,” I whisper.
When he laughs, I feel the rumble of it where my hands rest against his chest, and my whole body trembles.
“Just say yes!” Lucy cries from behind the curtain. “For Artist’s sake, Myra!”
“Go to sleep!” I shout back, not taking my eyes from August.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses

“For a moment I can almost imagine my mask is gone. That he's seeing me - all of me. Monster. Manipulator.
Girl.”
― Jessica S. Olson

“You're right, though. You do deserve to dance, wear pretty dresses, and eat fine foods. You are worth celebrating.'

Words have stuck in my throat. My body has gone completely numb.

'But they'll kill you if they find out the truth.' He pushes a lock of hair back over my shoulder. 'And a world without you in it? That's not a world I want to even imagine.”
― Jessica S. Olson, Sing Me Forgotten

“Before you, music was just music. But not anymore. Where everything was dull and mute before, you've brought brightness and life. I don't want to lose that.' He grasps my arms and pulls me around to face him. 'Please don't go to that ball, Isda.”
― Jessica S. Olson, Sing Me Forgotten

“You've seen my past. You know I'm not perfect.'

'That's not the point.'

His jaw hardens. 'That's exactly the point. We're all monsters. Every single person in this Memory-damned world.' He places his hands on either side of my face. 'What someone looks like isn't what determines their humanity.'
...
'I may not be able to see your memories,' he murmurs, 'but I have heard you sing. I've felt the vibratos and crescendos of your soul in every part of mine. You are no more a monster than I. You are a song.”
― Jessica S. Olson, Sing Me Forgotten

“I would have loved you forever,' he says, his breath hot on my mouth.

I meet his gaze. 'And I will.'

His mouth dips against mine once more, but this time it is soft and gently, quiet and questioning, as though he is exploring every inch of my lips with his so that he might memorize them. They are gentle kisses. Kisses that know they cannot last. Kisses that beg for just a breath longer. Kisses that mean goodbye.”
― Jessica S. Olson, Sing Me Forgotten

“Despite what my mother thinks, I’m not totally inept,” August says quietly. “Let me help you.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses

“Maybe that's what the answer really is to the aches and the toils of this cruel world. Finding people we can lean on and love.

Because no matter how many paintbrushes I might use or which colors I might blend, I could never capture this moment. This moment that a past me might have found flawed. This moment that is so unutterably flawless.”
― Jessica S. Olson, A Forgery of Roses