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Quote by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

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Ace of Spades

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Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

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“He smiles, cocks his head. 'Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?' I clench my jaw and breathe hard through my nose. His innocence feels put on, like he’s playing with me by playing dumb. Still smiling, he leans back in his chair, and him doing that—leaning back, crossing his arms, looking me up and down as though I’m entertaining, just something to look at—makes anger flare up inside me, so sudden and strong I ball my hands into fists to stop from screaming, lunging forward, grabbing the Harvard mug off his desk and hurling it at his face. I turn on my heel, stomp out of the room and down the hallway. I’m furious the whole way back to Gould, but once I’m in my room, the anger disappears and all that’s left is the dull-ache desire for meaning I’ve had for weeks now. He said he wanted to kiss me. He touched me. Every interaction between us is tinged now with something potentially ruinous, and it isn’t fair for him to pretend otherwise.”

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Book:My Dark Vanessa
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“Why did God, the creator give fairies free will and egos like humans on earth? “God gave fairies an ego and mind of their own, so that they can create a self-sustaining world and paradise. It would have had to have been overseen by many people, and creators, if the fairies did not have free-will and egos. It is this set of traits that they use to earth’s advantage, to produce more flowers and grass and trees wherever it is needed. It is able to look after itself, on its own accord without it being dependent on its maker. Do you see?l”

God QuotesFree WillFaeFairiesFlowers And PlantsGardening QuotesMother Earth QuotesFairies In The GrassFree Will Of Fairies
Book:Fairy Sparkles
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“Simon looks over at me. “What?” “Nothing,” I say. “What?!” he shouts. He can’t hear a thing I’m saying over the wind and the engine and the classic rock. “I hate this fucking car!” I shout back. “The sun is burning me! I might actually catch fire, at any moment!” The wind is blowing Simon’s hair straight, and he’s squinting—from the sun and from all the smiling. “What!” he shouts at me again. “You’re so beautiful!” I shout back. He turns the radio down, so now there’s just the wind and the engine noise to shout over. “What’d you say?!” “Nothing!”

Rainbow RowellWayward SonBaz PitchSimon SnowSnowbaz
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“He looks away from me, covering his mouth. “What are you laughing at.” He looks down, but waves his hand at me. “You—your—” I refuse to look down at myself. “My what, Snow?” “Your hair.” I refuse to touch my hair. “You look like that guy, with the wig—” He mimes playing the piano. “Duh, duh, duh, duhhh.” “Beethoven?” “I don’t know his name. With the big wig. There was a film about him.” “Mozart. You’re saying I look like Mozart.” “You’ve got to look, Baz, it’s a scream.”

Rainbow RowellWayward SonBaz PitchSimon SnowSnowbaz
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