Patrick Ness Quotes

Cuz when I held you for the first time this morning and fed you from my own body, I felt so much love for you it was almost like pain, almost like I couldn't stand it one longer.

It'll make you look rugged,' Mel says.
'Because I woke up this morning,' I say, 'and the one thing I realized I lacked was ruggedness.

Finally, we come to the real thing, the thing that makes men men, the thing were born for, Todd. War.

He's seeing the actual Milky Way streaked across the sky. The whole of his entire galaxy, right there in front of him. Billions and billions of stars. Billions and billions of worlds. All of them, all of those seemingly endless possibilities, not fictional, but real, out there, existing, right now. There is so much more out there than just the world he knows, so much more than his tiny Washington town, so much more than even London. Or England. Or hell, for that matter.

So much more that he'll never see. So much more that he'll never get to. So much that he can only glimpse enough of to know that it's forever beyond his reach.

Las historias son criaturas salvajes — dijo el monstruo — . Cuando las sueltas, ¿quién sabe los desastres que pueden causar?

Never trust a politician, Todd. They have no fixed center, so you can never believe them.

You're helpless to the behaviour but the effort involved is just unbelievable.

Sizewise, she's always been just smaller than me.
But I think of her and I feel like she's as big as the world.

"I look at the knife-
Resting in a puddle of water-
Near the ledge by the pulpit behind Aaron-
Where I dropped it-
And I hear it calling to me-
Take me, it says-
Take me and use me, it says-
Aaron hold open his arms.
"Murder me," he says. "Become a man."
Never let me go says the knife"

A man is capable of thought. A crowd is not.

Conor was no longer invisible. They all saw him now.
But he was further away than ever.

It's not how we fall. It's how we get back up again.

"A book, he thinks at one point, rubbing his eyes, tired from so much focused reading. It's a world all on its own, too. He looks at the cover again. A satyr playing pan pipes, far more innocent-looking than when it got up to in the story. A world made of words, Seth thinks, where you live for a while.

"And then it's over," he says."

I began to feel that itch that every writer longs for: the itch to start getting words down, the itch to tell a story.

I take my rucksack and go out the opening where the front door used to be. Manchee gets up from where he's curled and follows me. When I sit down, he recurls by my legs and fall asleep, farting happily and giving a doggy sigh. Simple to be a dog.