♣ Because of my dad I know all about 1918, the year there was a really nasty flu. It swept across every country in the world. It killed more people j than World War I. A billion people got it, almost a third of everyone alive back then.
And you know what's really amazing? The virus didn't spread over the radio, and you didn't get it from watching TV or reading the side of a bus. No one was hired to spread it. Everyone who contracted the disease got it from shaking hands with, or getting sneezed on by, someone else who had it, right? So in one year just about everyone in the world had shaken hands with someone who had shaken hands with someone who had shaken hands with Patient Zero (which is what they call Innovators in the crazy world of epidemiology).
So imagine that instead of sneezing germs, all those people had been saying to each other, "Wow, this new breath mint is great! Want one?" In just a year about a billion people would be using that new breath mint without anyone ever spending a dime on advertising.
Kind of makes you think. PP. 32
♣ and his eyes had the faraway look of the homeless and the wireless. PP. 121
♣ "The hoi polloi were pissed off everywhere back in the old days, but the revolution succeeded only in France, because the cobblestones in Paris weren't stuck down very well. An angry mob could take on the king's soldiers just by pulling up the street. Imagine a hundred peasants lobbing those at you."
"Exactly," I said. "Your fancy uniform, your musket, none of it's worth much in a hail of rocks the size of a fist. But in cities where the cobblestones were stuck down better, the angry mob couldn't do anything. No revolution." PP. 191
♣ WHEN ENGLISH GENTLEMEN WENT HUNTING A LONG TIME AGO, they would occasionally cry at the top of their lungs, "Soho!" (I'm not sure why. Maybe Soho was Tallyho's brother or something like that.) Much later, when some fine hunting grounds near London were paved over to build shops, theaters, and nightclubs, some real-estate genius decided to call this cool new neighborhood "Soho."
Rather later still, a derelict bit of industrial New York just south of Houston Street was being rebuilt with shops, theaters, and nightclubs, and yet another real-estate genius decided to rebrand this cool new neighborhood "SoHo," meaning "South of Houston."
Soon everyone was getting into the act. The folks north of Houston said they lived in "NoHo," lower Broadway went by "LoBro," and the area North Of Where Holland's Entrance Removes Exhausted Suburbanites began to be called, fittingly, NOWHERESville.
So many real-estate geniuses, so little dengue fever. PP. 218
♣ Outside, Jen was incensed. "Casting? I can't believe he thought we looked like actors." (Most Innovators don't like actors, who are, by definition, imitators.) PP. 221
♣ "The first Innovators invented myth," Wickersham said, "before religion got turned into mall metal for Consumers. In those old stories the first heroes were tricksters, coyotes, and hustlers. Their job was to jam nature, mess up the wind and stars. They messed with the gods, remixing the world with chaos." PP. 238
♣ As a certain French philosopher once said, "Man is the animal that says no." PP. 266
♣ the first rule of consumerism: Never give us what we really want. Cut the dream into pieces and scatter them like ashes. Dole out the empty promises. Package our aspirations and sell them to us, cheaply made enough to fall apart. - PP. 269
"So Yesterday" by Scott Westerfeld
♥ "I miss you," Joe says as he winds his arm around Nick's waist and pulls him in against Joe's hip.
"That too," Nick says. They're closing in fast on the part where Nick pulls away, where he pushes out from under Joe's arm, where he fights. It's always been Nick's job to draw the line.
He wonders what would happen if he didn't.
Joe's fingers slide up through Nick's hair, up from his neck to the crown of his head, carding through Nick's curls. Nick slips farther down the pillows, farther into Joe's side, until his head is on Joe's shoulder. Joe's cheek touches down on the top of Nick's head. "Nick?" Joe whispers. Nick closes his eyes, the murmur of the television lulling him, the soft rise and fall of Joe's breathing. Nick wonders if he's really the only thing holding them apart, that little bit apart that makes what they are okay, not wrong. Joe's fingers stroke against the curve of Nick's hip, and Nick shudders a little into Joe. He wants Joe to dig his fingers in, dig bruises from Nick's skin and touch him, keep touching him. He wants it so much he feels fear swell up slowly under the heaviness of his exhaustion.
♥ "Wait. You're pissed at me?"
"You sound surprised," Joe says, sarcasm thick.
"I mean I thought it would be awkward, I didn't know you were going to be pissed off. I thought- I mean, you got what you wanted, didn't you?"
"Right." Joe turns his face into the couch, his back to Nick, his voice coming out muffled. "I got what I wanted? Like I wanted you to be fall down drunk? I practically had to carry you up the stairs after, you were so out of it." He laughs, brittle and sharp. "Are you even going to remember it tomorrow?" He looks over his shoulder at Nick. "Are we going to awkwardly ignore it and pretend it didn't happen until you leave again in a couple days and I don't see you for another six months? Because that's always been a dream of mine." He turns his head away again. "You got what you wanted, Nick. I got a handjob."
Okay. So. Maybe that's fair. Nick thinks guiltily about how he kind of wishes he would forget. About how much easier it would be to just go away from here and let the distance creep back in. It's safer when there's space between them, when he has plenty of time to figure out how to not say, not do the things he shouldn't. Nick stares at the back of Joe's neck for a long time, the defensive hunch of his shoulders. He thinks about how the distance isn't really that much easier, not when it aches so deep, when the empty spaces are so, so empty. "What do you want?" he asks.
Joe doesn't answer for a long time. Nick thinks maybe he won't, but he does finally. "I want you to stay," he says into the couch cushions, not looking at Nick. "I want to be something you- Something you still want when you're sober."
"Nick Jonas Throws in the Towel" by Smithereen . [Nick Jonas/Joe Jonas, rec+]
♥ "It's true," said Alan... "I was cheating. They were going after my brother. When losing isn't an option, it doesn't matter what you have to do to win." pp.106
♥ "Nick"... "In two worlds," said Alan quietly. "there is nothing I love half as much as you."
Gerald's voiced echoed in Mae's ears as if he was still there. If you told him how you felt, he wouldn't even know what you mean.
Every line of Nick's body was tense with the desire to leave, and for a second Mae was he would, that he would just turn without a word and go.
"Sometimes," Nick said, still looking at the floor, his voice rough and shocking in the silence. "Sometimes I want to be human for you."
"But not usually," said Alan. It wasn't even a question.
"No," Nick said. "Usually not."
He turned away, closing the door behind him. pp. 129
It's shocking to me how Alan is the one we should feel sorry about when Nick is constantly being asked to be something he is not and when he declares he loves his brother enough that he would change his very essence, destroy himself, to make him happy, Alan is a total bitch and says that wanting to sometimes is not enough. Well, it sure as hell beats getting loved by someone who wants to change you. Why does Alan get the moral high ground of loving Nick despite his demoness but Nick is just naturally inclined to love Alan because of his humanity, not despite it? Humanity is not a quality Nick should find worthy. For all his purported inability to feel Nick spends the whole of book 1 and 2 mortally afraid of losing his brother and conscious that this is somehow his fault because he's not able to make Alan happy (which is partly why Alan keeps getting himself into risky situations).
♥ It didn't take much to make Alan happy; he was used to living on crumbs.
It made her feel terribly sorry for him, but she couldn't really understand it. She was pretty comfortable with wanting a lot from life. pp. 131.
Of course, then you get that the guy is profoundly unhappy because the person he got to love, the only one that stayed (I'm not counting Olivia since she clearly didn't want to interact with him) is physically incapable of returning his feelings and so his own love and the fact that he gets to live with Nick and make him happy has to be enough to get by. Because even trying to connect with other people gets Nick to act crazy.
♥ "I-" said Nick, his voice halting. "I don't mind it as much when - when people touch me. Some people."
"Because you trust them not to hurt you?" Mae asked tentatively.
"No," Nick said, his voice harsh. "Because I'd let them hurt me."
♥ "I don't trust men everybody likes," Annabel said in a dark voice. "Being nice isn't the same as being good."
"Yeah," Jamie said, arms crossed over his chest and eyes dark. Mae reached out and touched his sore wrist carefully and he smiled. "I'm starting to get that now. But you're wrong about Alan. Some people think that being nice is a substitute for being good, or - or they're so messed up they think being nice is the same. Alan knows the difference. He just tries really hard to be nice, because he's afraid he's not good at all." pp. 400
♥ Mae had been interested when she'd thought he was a gorgeous guy whose strangeness she'd put down to the effects of living on the run from magicians. She wasn't still interested now that she knew he was a demon, put into the body of a baby by the Obsidian Circle magicians and raised human, but a demon all the same; something otherworldly that preyed on her kind. It would be impossible.
She tore her gaze away from Nick, dark and silent at the window, to the friendly face of the guy who'd raised a demon and set him loose on the world.
♥ "You did lie to Merris!"
"I lie to everyone," Alan said softly. "It's nothing personal." pp. 318
♥ "Lots of people would like to have someone tall, dark, and handsome around to love them sullenly and passionately," Mae said, "I read it in a book."
Jamie looked ill.
"Not me. I would like someone to express their feelings by being very, very nice to me all the time. And making me laugh. And then I would make them laugh too. And - and nobody would kill anybody." pp. 367
♥ Low and cold, Nick said, "Betray me."
Alan's head snapped up. "What?"
"Betray me," Nick said again, still in that terrible toneless demon's voice, hands clenching on the kitchen counter so hard Mae thought it would break. "Turn me over to the magicians, take the magic, do whatever you think you need to do, I do not care. But don't leave."
She'd had it all wrong, Mae thought, feeling numb all over. She'd known Nick was afraid of something, learning fear the way she'd described it: feeling paralized even though you know you have to act, because you're sure that if you even move, the most terrible thing you can think of will happen.
She just hadn't understood.
From the look on Alan's face, he hadn't understood either.
"Oh, Nick," He said in a soft, amazed voice. "No."
He limped the few steps towards his brother, then reached out. A shiver ran all the way through Nick, as if he was a spooked animal about to bolt, but he didn't bolt. Alan's hand settled on the back of his brother's neck, and Nick bowed his head a little more and let him do it.
"No, no, no," Alan said in his beautiful voice, turning it into a lullaby, soothing and sweet. "Nick. I would never leave." pp. 383
♥ "Alan said to me once that as I couldn't tell lies, I shouldn't tell secrets," Nick said. "I thought you'd figure it out." pp. 344
"The Demon's Covenant" by Sarah Rees Brennan
c "My father," Narcissa said, "always said that revenge was a confession of pain. So Andromeda's complete indifference made the family feel that she did not care, that the family did not matter. It hurt worse than if she'd tried to create problems for our family, which she could have, after the first war."
c "That still doesn't mean that you ought to exert any effort in order to get revenge on him. If he's the type of person who has no conscience, your revenge will be ultimately futile. Live well, Draco. It's the greatest revenge."
- Good-bye to Yesterday by Furiosity [Harry/Draco]
And More Slashy Fanfic Quotes here.