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"I had fun last night,' I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. 'I'm officially in love with your sheets.' 'That the only thing you're in love with?''Nope. Your mattress, too.'Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. 'My bed's an open invitation."
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"I can't leave her now. I like her too much. There, I said it. But I won't say it again."
"You all right?" he said again.I didn't love him, I was far away from him, it was as though I was seeing him through a smeared window or glossy paper; he didn't belong here. But he existed, he deserved to be alive. I was wishing I could tell him how to change so he could get there, the place where I was."Yes," I said. I touched him on the arm with my hand. My hand touched his arm. Hand touched arm. Language divides us into fragments, I wanted to be whole."
"I shivered as the cold was all encompassing, not just from being outdoors, but from being read as well. He had a way of seeing through me. It was as unnerving as it was bonding and I couldn't figure out how the two could co-exist."
"One's first love is the most transformative and least replicable experience. I could love someone else, but it would be its own unfathomable emotion. It would not be this precious, first, spring love. If I cannot love her fully, it will be a love that corrodes within me."
"However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were. "And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love! "I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy. "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
"Perhaps twenty minutes later he realized she had gone to sleep. He quietly removed his now stiff arm, then turned away. It must have woken her a little After a moment he felt her turn as well and lay a hand, instinctively, like a sleeping wife, across his hips; as if, in some dream, he was the one who escaped."
"You're mine, he growled. He hoped she really understood that too. That she was his in every sense of the word. And vice versa. The female completely owned him. Until the day he died, he would be hers."
Explore more quotes by Becca Fitzpatrick
"Quit calling me Grey. It makes me sound like I'm a boy. Like Dorian Gray.'Dorian who?I sighed. 'Just think up something else. Plain old Nora works too, you know.'Sure thing, Gumdrop.I grimaced. 'I take that back. Let's stick with Grey."
"I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax.' I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. 'I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now,' I quipped."
"I like having you around, Britt. That's the truth. I'm not leaving you. Even if you were a pain in the butt, I'd stay with you. It's the right thing to do. But it turns out I find you likable and interesting, and while I'm not glad you have to go through this, I'm glad we have each other."
"I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn't feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I saw your ghost in everything. I couldn't escape you and I didn't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you."
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