Katherine Owen Quotes

Me, all seeing. He, blind and unseeing, but, somehow, seeing it all so clearly. I envy him.

Don’t worry about it. I’m not scared,” I say airily. “Are you ever?” “All the time. Normally. All the time.

Well, maybe, you should. Because frankly, Brock, you’re being a jerk and you know it.” “I’m blind. Why can’t you people see that?

Am I Carrie, now? I sway with the movement of the elevator. I close my eyes and try to think. I could never be Carrie. No one can. That’s the thing. Always.

I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I could never be Carrie. I can feel the tears sting behind my eyes. I can never be Carrie. Now, I can’t even be Ellie.

All there is left of me; and yet, I’m looking over and contemplating its meaning on whether to jump or stay. I’m not sure this feeling for Tally Landon is made up of love any more than it is of hate.

Finally, I formulate and say a little prayer to God, and since we haven’t officially spoken since my mom and Elliott died that takes up quite a bit of my time.

She’s got this dreamy look going—her everything’s right with the world why isn’t it right with you Tally? face. It’s such a carryover from high school that I almost laugh.

My favorite color is black because I love the night sky, black licorice, and I feel sorry for the color black because no one ever chooses it as their favorite.

Chocolate anyone? An abundance of heartbreak. Rare happiness. Plenty of self-destruction. Take your pick. Julia’s got everything in here.

Finally, I say, “long dark hair, blue-violet eyes, slender, tall, she had a Liz Taylor in Black Beauty thing going on.” Reluctance sets in. Do I really want to put this together for him? “Like you,” he says. Pandora’s Box opens.

The psyche questionnaire asks me to list the things I dislike. Why don’t they just use the word, hate? Why is everyone so afraid to admit they hate something?

I write Advil, and then add Athens, Afghanistan and the U.S. Army. “In conclusion, I hate a lot of things that begin with the letter A,” I write in the space provided.

Love has nothing to do with knowing someone. And, everything to do with need.

Heartless. That is me. I have no time for romance, flowers, or relationships. I like one-night stands with plenty of sex and no promises of a future. I like the lies I tell. I’m comfortable in telling them…most of the time. This is me.

Here’s the truth: I am the female version of a heartbreaker. The one that everyone says is too dedicated to ballet, too self-involved to ever care about anyone else besides herself. I’m the rebel. The bad twin. I am Tally—the loner, the party of one. The love and leave ‘em prototype.

She is my water. I can never get enough of her, and it appears that I will die trying to love her, to keep her, to hold her with me, even though our time together seems to evaporate so swiftly. It slips through our fingers so damn fast that we don’t even have time to savor it when we’re together.