Die schönsten Buchzitate (Seite 4)

I used to have only one name; it used to mean something.

"Momentum," She repeats. "You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run."

Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other.

I liked just being with you. I liked the way you breathed when you were asleep. I liked when you took the champagne glass from my hand. I liked how your fingers were always too long for your gloves.

Fate, I think, is a thief.

You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.

So many of the things I've wanted are the things I've been taught to fear.

We destroy things with our curiosity. We shatter with our best intentions.

I've done it all before, I tell myself, and I can do it again. Trust is the strongest weapon.

It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.

Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.

Rhine. The river that, somewhere out there, has broken free.

We figure out what death means when we're born, practically, and we live our whole lives in some kind of weird denial about it.

All Knights must bleed. Blood is the seal of our devotion.

When the past is always with you, it may as well be present; and if it is present, it will be future as well.

We have sealed ourselves away behind our money, growing inward, generating a seamless universe of self.

Night City was like a deranged experiment in social Darwinism, designed by a bored researcher who kept one thumb permanently on the fast-forward button.

Cliches became cliches for a reason; that they usually hold at least a modicum of truth, and the following cliche is truer than most: You can't know where you're going if you don't know where you've been.

Cyberspace. A consensual hallucination experienced daily by billions of legitimate operators, in every nation.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

You can't tell whether people are gay by what they look like. And gay or straight aren't the only two options.

I like Charlie Spring! In a romantic way - not just a friend way!

"Das… da… da ist ja noch ein blauer Punkt!", schrie Herr Taschenbier begeistert.
"Ja, Papa. Der allerletzte. Den kannst du meinetwegen abwünschen. Aber Vorsicht, dass du nicht wieder Fehler machst!"
"Keine Angst, diesmal mache ich bestimmt keinen Fehler", sagte Herr Taschenbier. Nach einer kleinen Pause holte er tief Luft und sagte dann langsam und feierlich: "Ich wünsche, dass das Sams immer bei mir bleibt!"

Andre können dich nicht ändern,
ändern musst du dich allein.
Du wirst nie die andern ändern,
aber du kannst anders sein.

Frau Rosenkohl ist innen hohl, Frau Rosenknall ist wie ein Ball, Frau Rosenkluft, enthält nur Luft.

"Aber ich weiß es vielleicht", platzte Herr Taschenbier heraus. Mit einem Mal war ihm ein Gedanke gekommen. Wie war das doch gewesen: am Sonntag Sonne, am Montag Herr Mon, am Dienstag Dienst, am Mittwoch Wochenmitte, am Donnerstag Donner, am Freitag frei - und heute war Samstag. Am Samstag Sams! Das war's!
"Du bist bestimmt ein Sams!", sagte er entschieden.

Wenn du eigne Wünsche hast,
dann greif ruhig nach den Sternen.
Wünsch dir alles, was du willst.
Das kannst du von mir lernen.
Doch wenn du einem Böses wünscht,
zum Beispiel deinem Feind,
dann wird das leider nicht erfüllt,
dann wird der Wunsch verneint.

"Warum muss ich eigentlich jeden Monat Geld für das Zimmer bezahlen, Rotköhlchen?", flötete das Sams.
"Das ist die Miete. Außerdem verbitte ich mir Ihre Bezeichnungen. Ich heiße Rotkohl, verstanden?"
"Wenn ich Miete bezahle, habe ich das Zimmer gemietet, und wenn ich ein Zimmer gemietet habe, darf ich es auch abschließen", erklärte das Sams durch die verschlossene Tür.

"Wein-Nachten?", fragte das Sams. "Ist das eine Nacht, in der man Wein trinkt, oder eine, wo alle weinen?"
"Ich falle auf deine dummen Fragen nicht mehr herein", sagte Herr Taschenbier. "Du weißt genau, dass es Weih-Nachten heißt. Eine geweihte Nacht!"
"Eine Nacht mit Geweih", sagte das Sams. "Ungefähr so wie ein Hirsch?"

Keiner weiß, wie ich heiß, furchtbar dumm, stehn sie rum. Keiner weiß, wie ich heiß.

"Sie machen ja mehr Donner als zwei Gewitter, Sie müssen völlig übergeschnappt sein!"
"Mehr Donner, mehr Donner!", rief Herr Taschenbier begeistert. "Frau Rotkohl, Sie sind ein Schatz! Am liebsten würde ich Ihnen einen Kuss geben."
Frau Rotkohl trat hastig einen Schritt zurück und rief: "Unterstehen Sie sich!"
"Donner, Donner Don-Don-Donner", sang Herr Taschenbier.
"Es hat gedonnert an einem Donnerstag!"

Snow in April is abominable. Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.

And that's what love at first sight is. It isn't really love at first sight until you've been with the person long enough for it to become love at first sight.

A woman knows if she wants to keep a man forever, she has to act like she could get over him in a day.

A terrible sex life is like a virus. Your marriage can be healthy in all other aspects, but once the sex dies out, it starts to infect all the other parts of your relationship.

Find what you love and let it kill you.

The things lurking around inside the mind can be just as dangerous as tangible threats.

I was difficult. An emotionally challenging puzzle he wasn't up for solving. Which was fine. I wasn't in the mood to be solved.

Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. "Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you're at it." Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you'll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

The kiss was full of both desire and respect - two things a lot of men didn't seem to know could go hand in hand.

If we were friends, I would do something to comfort him. Maybe grab his hand and hold it. But there's too much inside me that wants to be more than his friend, which means we can't be friends at all. If an attraction is present between two people, those two people can only be one of two things. Involved or not involved. There is no in-between.

I don't want to call him an a-hole. He's a little kid, and he's been through a lot. But I think he might be an a-hole.

Here, I'm invisible. Unimportant. Manhattan is too crowded to give a sh-t about me, and I love her for it.

It was amazing how different sex felt when a person used more than their body. I involved my heart and my gut and my mind and my hope. I fell in that moment. Not in love. I just... fell.

I'm the awkward writer who posts a picture of my book and says, "It's an okay book. There are words in it. Read it if you want."

A writer should never have the audacity to write about themselves unless they're willing to separate every layer of protection between the author's soul and their book. The words should come directly from the center of the gut, tearing through flesh and bone as they break free. Ugly and honest and bloody and a little bit terrifying, but completely exposed.

Most people come to New York to be discovered. The rest of us come here to hide.

My mother used to say that houses have a soul, and if that is true, the soul of Verity Crawford's house is as dark as they come.

It's natural, to assume the worst in people, even if that assumption is only for a split second.

How many other planets have you visited? Perhaps they all sail in oceans of pollen and your home is the freakish one.