Quotes From All The Bright Places With Page Numbers นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Bright luminosity and striking dazzling glamor. "Where are you going, Zita?" I asked her, as she approached where the light was coming from. "I think that's the solution to our problems," she said. Somehow, a bit of hope signaled on her face. Was this what led to what we were in search of? "Is that where the book is?" Wendy asked, with eyes filled with awe. "Seems like it I just don't understand something," she said, going over. We did nothing but watched.

Zee's POV "And the First Light of Morning Woke to usher the first dawn in Hell And cried as it happened. For the Light was a weak and paltry thing And lacked the Warmth He was accustomed to Now that they were in the dark. He asked for forgiveness, Begged for it, And heard—for the first time, Nothing in return." ~ The Book of Lost Days Lilith 2:1-2 "You know life would be a lot easier if you didn't scream as much…"

And that was all Bright wanted to hear. ---- Tabby

But here I am, trying to carry everything on my shoulders again. Standing by the window from the living room, I was able to witness everything change from darkness to bright and warm. The clouds looked beautiful. The flowers and the leaves dancing with the wind were pretty. I hated them. It made me feel like the whole world decided to show me how amazing and beautiful the day was while I was welcoming it as the most devastated creature to ever walk the land. As I continue to breathe, I feel my chest ache. Every single time I try to take a deep breath in, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, as if I am being punished for continuing. I want to escape; that's what I am most good at. But I put mysel

“They are your feelings and you are entitled to them. My dad reminds me that it’s okay to not be okay. But it’s not okay to give up. Life sucks from time to time. We’re talking sucks worse than a dollar blow job.” She rubbed her belly again as the teens laughed. “But the sun comes out again. Little miracles happen. Dreams change and come true. You change. Life changes. You have to go through the darkness to see a sunrise.” “Do not go gentle into the dark night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Rachel Woodson, her one goth student, quoted. “Love me some Dylan Thomas.” Evie smiled as her alarm dinged. “I have agreed to stay after today if anyone wants to stay also. If you need to ta

I muttered. Ann smiled. “Then I’m glad you came. Whatever it is you’re holding in your heart, remember this, sometimes the darkest paths lead us to the brightest places.” I sighed, my chest heavy with thoughts I could not say out loud. Was this what Anthony should be doing now, just giving up? I didn’t know how serious his condition really was, or how fast it was getting worse. But if headlights on the road were already making him lose sight, then what about the bright, flashing lights in the arena when they performed? That would be a thousand times harder.

He thought: the step in the corner is a letter to the girl in her forties. He thought: every honest element in the honest building is a letter to the attending person who will find it. He was glad. End of Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Five

“Comforting. Bright. Just a little quirky.” Allie leaned against him, letting the quiet settle between them. “I need this,” she admitted after a while. “Something that’s mine. Something I can build from the ground up.” He turned slightly toward her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know. That’s why I’m proud of you.” She didn’t say anything at first, just let her pencil resume its soft scratches across the page. “I keep thinking about Luca,” she murmured suddenly. “What he took. What he almost took. From Klarisse. From us. I don’t want his shadow on anything anymore.”

In the hush, fireflies rose among lilies, twinkling like tiny promises: light survives, even where grave markers once stood. Ophelia closed her fingers around the ring, feeling its cool curve against her pulse. *Little star, we made it past dawn. Now we learn how bright daylight can be.* ---

"No, they're not good. And they're more of quotes anyway, they're short." "Okay, so tell me one. Tell me your favourite one." I bit my lip and look at him, contemplating whether I should or shouldn't. I have one in mind, the most recent one. As I watch him driving, his brown curls not falling over his eyes for once because he gelled them, the poem comes out by itself. "She couldn't understand," I begin, whispering, and gulp, still observing him, "why she found comfort in the dark, when all her life she had a fear of darkness."