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Angst Quotes

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Angst Quotes

“I see how it is,” I snapped. “You were all in favor of me breaking the tattoo and thinking on my own—but that’s only okay if it’s convenient for you, huh? Just like your ‘loving from afar’ only works if you don’t have an opportunity to get your hands all over me. And your lips. And . . . stuff.” Adrian rarely got mad, and I wouldn’t quite say he was now. But he was definitely exasperated. “Are you seriously in this much self-denial, Sydney? Like do you actually believe yourself when you say you don’t feel anything? Especially after what’s been happening between us?” “Nothing’s happening between us,” I said automatically. “Physical attraction isn’t the same as love. You of all people should know that.” “Ouch,” he said. His expression hadn’t changed, but I saw hurt in his eyes. I’d wounded him. “Is that what bothers you? My past? That maybe I’m an expert in an area you aren’t?” “One I’m sure you’d just love to educate me in. One more girl to add to your list of conquests.” He was speechless for a few moments and then held up one finger. “First, I don’t have a list.” Another finger, “Second, if I did have a list, I could find someone a hell of lot less frustrating to add to it.” For the third finger, he leaned toward me. “And finally, I know that you know you’re no conquest, so don’t act like you seriously think that. You and I have been through too much together. We’re too close, too connected. I wasn’t that crazy on spirit when I said you’re my flame in the dark. We chase away the shadows around each other. Our backgrounds don’t matter. What we have is bigger than that. I love you, and beneath all that logic, calculation, and superstition, I know you love me too. Running away and fleeing all your problems isn’t going to change that. You’re just going to end up scared and confused.” “I already feel that way,” I said quietly. Adrian moved back and leaned into his seat, looking tired. “Well, that’s the most accurate thing you’ve said so far.” I grabbed the basket and jerked open the car door. Without another word, I stormed off, refusing to look back in case he saw the tears that had inexplicably appeared in my eyes. Only, I wasn’t sure exactly which part of our conversation I was most upset about.”

“I find some small, twisted comfort in thinking that perhaps we used each other. Him, for a glimpse into what it would be like to live a life entirely different from the one he'd been raised to desire, and me for the steady diet of angst and emotional damage that seemed to make me better, sharper, like a sword against a whetstone. I was his intellectual escape from a long parade of pretty, empty girls... and he was my drug of choice -- unhealthy, probably lethal, but ultimately so addictive it was hard to turn away. The problem, of course, with this theory of mutual exploitation, is that it is the deepest of lies. There was nothing equal or mutual about the way we used each other. I barely scratched his surface while he sliced me limb from limb. There's no comfort in that. None at all.”

“Teachers play their role in the plot, sifting me through the school’s proletarian worker-making machine. Each pass removes another thin layer of human soul, just enough to wear down my resistance.”

“It’s so peaceful. I could go to sleep in here.” His eyes flickered to me once more, and for a dizzying second I wasn’t thinking about sleep or storms but about pressing my lips to his. I gave my head a slight shake and tried to slow my pulse”

“Seeing the mud around a lotus is pessimism, seeing a lotus in the mud is optimism.”

“She was not able to find her purpose in life. She would smile on the outside, but inside she was going through myriad difficulties. Her laughter was for the outside world, and she kept her sadness hidden deep inside her heart. I don't know what it was about me that made her tell me about her feelings, emotions, and thoughts. May be she felt that I could relate to her. Her feelings of loneliness. Her feelings of angst. She felt that I could understand her feelings. Among her friends, no one bothered to find out about her real feelings and emotions. Writers and poets are known to understand the perspectives and feelings of others. And I was a writer and wanderer, never staying at one place for long.”

“It was not only colored people who praised John, since they could not, John felt, in any case really know; but white people also said it, in fact had said it first and said it still. It was when John was five years old and in the first grade that he was first noticed; and since he was noticed by an eye altogether alien and impersonal, he began to perceive, in wild uneasiness, his individual existence.”

“Most of the things I could wish for I can't have. It's big stuff, like how I wish Poppy were still here and we weren't selling Bean Well. Or medium stuff, like I didn't worry so much about where I stand with Leo and Connie, or I wasn't one ping in my parents' inbox away from getting busted for skipping out on summer school. Or stuff that wells up in me from some place I can usually keep quiet--I wish I were old enough to do whatever I wanted, to go out and take photographs all over the world instead of the same sleepy suburb over and over and over again. I wish I didn't feel like a problem my parents had to solve.”

“I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of never being enough. Never being chosen. Always being the one who’s thrown away. Even by my mates. My fated mates. Fate is fucking bullshit. I won’t chase anymore. Not Wyvern Pack or anyone else. I’m done begging and crying and moping. Even if I’m not done with this pain… I’ll get through it on my own. Not because I’m a sad pathetic loner, but because I’m strong and powerful, and I can do anything I want. That’s what I’m going to do from now on.”