Jessica > Jessica's Quotes

“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

“You threw him into space?” “Yup.” “And he didn’t die?” “We only threw him out a little bit.” Marce”
― John Scalzi, The Collapsing Empire

“I really have discovered something at last. Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally found out. The front pattern does move - and no wonder! The woman behind shakes it! Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over. Then in the very ' bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard. And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern - it strangles so:...”
― Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wall-Paper

“I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we all know how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy-store.”
― Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wall-Paper

“Sitting in an enclosed space with Granddad was like wiping your tears with sandpaper. Painful—excruciating, even—and you wondered why you ever thought it was a good idea.”
― Kwame Mbalia, Tristan Strong Punches a Hole in the Sky

“Stories were the way People lived. Like paths, they could be traveled in any direction, yet always ran from beginning to end.”
― John Crowley, Ka: Dar Oakley in the Ruin of Ymr

“There's more beauty in truth, even if it is dreadful beauty.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“My imagination will get me a passport to hell one day.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“Come on, let's go back to the coffee shop and I'll make us Irish coffees and we'll discuss this like people who don't die in the first five minutes of a horror movie.”
― T. Kingfisher, The Hollow Places

“Heads for aliens, tails for black magic."
"Why does it have to be black magic? Can't it be neutral magic? Magic with no significant moral imperative?"
Simon rolled his eyes, caught the coin in midair, and slapped it on his wrist. "Good news, it's aliens.”
― T. Kingfisher, The Hollow Places

“The problem was the liars. They said she could do anything she set her mind to, they told her she should shoot for the moon because if she missed she’d be among the stars, they made movies tricking her into thinking she could achieve heroic things. All lies. Because she was born to answer phones in call centers, to carry bags to customers’ cars, to punch a clock, to measure her life in smoke breaks. To think otherwise was insane.”
― Grady Hendrix, Horrorstör

“Here was the other option: the tranquilizing chair. It was always waiting for her. It always wanted her back. It always wanted her to quit again, to sit down and never get back up.

In the end, Amy thought, everything always comes down to those two choices: stay down or stand up.”
― Grady Hendrix, Horrorstör

“When people see tears, they stop listening to your hands or your words or anything else you have to say. And it doesn't matter if the tears are angry or sad, frightened or frustrated. All they see is a girl crying.”
― Victoria Schwab, Gallant

“I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself.”
― Karen Marie Moning, Darkfever

“The truth is, I am a person who is meant to stay home and read books, maybe have a nice dinner, and then put myself to bed. That is the life I’m built for. It’s all about the setting. When I’m out in public, it’s as if my system gets overwhelmed and instantaneously short-circuits. I turned the phoenix into ashes, by accident, in small ways, all the time.”
― Selma Blair, Mean Baby: A Memoir of Growing Up

“Someone once told me that grief is love you can no longer express.”
― Selma Blair, Mean Baby: A Memoir of Growing Up

“The slasher cycle is a dance, see? Imagine a dance floor in a high school gym, the lights are down, crinkled paper everywhere, spiked punch, fancy handed down jackets and dresses, shoes it's impossible to even walk in, I know you've chaperoned some. Now who the slasher WANTS to dance with is this one quiet girl way on the other side of the gym floor, but he can't cross to her yet, instead he has to work his way across TO her, dancing with this person and then that person, the back of his hand sometimes touching the final girl's sleeve during a slow song, their eyes locking like fate, but he's waiting for the last dance, sir. The slow (MOTION) one. That's the one that matters. You don't go home with who you dance your 3rd dance with. You go home with who you're holding hands with when the music's over.”
― Stephen Graham Jones, My Heart Is a Chainsaw

“But all of life is one great tragedy for a woman. You're born, you have a brief, shining moment when you're in control, you matter, you age, you die. Each passing day is a small death that prepares you for the end.”
― Ek Sathue, Youthjuice

“We bathed in their blood to stay young. Slick, fatty liquid kept us alight in our wild beauty. Their blood was the fountain of youth, burbling through our very own veins. Platelets are the secret to radiance. The key to a brighter complexion. Blood, with the fortifying run of an egg yolk’s slow drip, is the opposite of tech. It’s messy, never sterile.”
― E.K. Sathue, youthjuice

“All Shesheshen could do for Homily was be patient with her, and make space for her, and eventually, one day behind her back, eat her mother.”
― John Wiswell, Someone You Can Build a Nest In

“It was some sort of love. Not the kind of love that made you plant your eggs in someone and turn them into a parent, but a kind of love.”
― John Wiswell, Someone You Can Build a Nest In

“These were emotions she didn't know how to carry. There was the insult of having her death celebrated when she wasn't even dead. When she was, in fact, amidst them all right now, and only out here because they'd sent killers to fail in her home.

But this? To be dying from the poison of those assassins, and while looking for emergency food to survive the injury, to be told by a drunk rich boy with inconvenient hair that she had never really existed? Now their songs made unkind sense to her. This revelry was a kind of fear, for hatred was the fear people let themselves enjoy.

Never had she imagined such a thing. Humans were so creative in their disappointments.”
― John Wiswell, Someone You Can Build a Nest In

“Still he sneered up at her. He turned those strong cheekbones and his blond stubble up to her and said, "At least you're dying with me. The Wulfyres never forget."

Those were not the words of a worthy father. Those were the words of breakfast.”
― John Wiswell, Someone You Can Build a Nest In