Novel & Cerita Book Quotes Highlighted

She cleared her throat, over-enunciating as though performing Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre. “Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind… it’s fire, and it burns everything it touches.” She looked at me expectantly, starry-eyed. I wanted to slide under the table and melt into the floor. Was this real life? Was I being forced to quote my own tortured prose like a trained parrot? “Um.” My voice cracked. “Yes, that… that does sound like something I wrote.” “It is!” another boy shouted. “Page two seventy-three, right after the betrayal scene! I highlighted it!”

I turned to look at him, exhaling rapidly before I talked. “I know he won't make that mistake of attacking first again. And if he plans to, we act on the famous quotes.” I said as I took a deep breath, wiping my face with my palm. “What famous quote are you talking about?” He asked as his eyes were opened widely, raising an eyebrow and looking rather curious. I smirked a little, tilting my head to face the direction of the crib of my baby. “Never interrupt your enemies when they are making a mistake,” I said slowly as if I were counting my words as they came out of my mouth. I adjusted on the bed, leaning forward a bit as I exhaled rapidly. Lucas took a deep breath as he licked his lips.

She packed the medicine box, and this time, Russell took the initiative to hold the medicine box and put it back in the cabinet above. By the time he turned around, Chelsea had already gone to the bathroom to remove her face mask. Russell sat on the sofa waiting, saw a book on the coffee table, and picked it up. It was "The Little Prince". This book seemed to have been flipped through countless times, its pages fluffy, corners slightly curled. A page marked with a bookmark had a sentence highlighted with a marker. [Cherish the opportunity you have now to watch the sunrise with the one you love. Don't wait until twilight years, leaving regrets at the edge of oblivion.]

Read it again. There was a section, the part about my contribution to the gala, that had a quote from Nate that I was fairly certain I would need to sit with for a long time before I understood fully what it did to something in my chest. But it was the final line of the statement that I kept coming back to. Not the legal precision of the anonymous source section. Not the charity numbers. One sentence in the middle of my section that wasn't a quote and wasn't a statistic, that was just, declarative. Plain. The way Julian said things that weren't up for discussion.

None of his books went unnumbered. The first page of the jotter had his mom's full name boldly written at the top in her calligraphic handwriting: 'From Victoria Sarah Ijeoma Edochie.' And, surprisingly, below it was his name: 'To Joel Chukwuebuka Edochie'. His brows dipped and he flipped to the other side. "Romans 10 vs 11: For the scripture saith, Whosoever believeth in him shall not be ashamed." Undoubtedly, this was hers because this used to be her favorite quote from the Bible.

Before I could even think of closing my mouth the correction poured out of me. “Perfect,” I corrected. His eyebrows flew up at me as if asking me a question. His face was a mixture of curiosity, and annoyance. “The quote. It’s “The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain,” I said, looking back into his dangerous eyes, “I’ve read this book more times then I can count.” “Is that so? I like my version better,” he said. “You like your version even though your version is wrong?” I said, giving him a mocking smile, "That sounds like something a typical man would say."

“I don’t need help.” “Mm-hm.” He flipped through the lit anthology I’d reluctantly brought the one the professor kept threatening would be on the midterm and stabbed his finger at a passage I’d highlighted in aggressive yellow. Right next to it, in my blocky handwriting, I’d scrawled: *?? football??* “You underlined ‘the futility of man’s struggle against fate’ and then immediately asked if it applied to fourth-quarter comebacks. That doesn’t scream mastery to me.” Heat crept up the back of my neck, slow and humiliating. “I was… making connections.”