356 Quotes by Amie Kaufman

The thing I was raised to be is acutely aware of how easy it would be to reach out and break this human boy. But the man I try to be keeps his arms folded instead.

Insane quasi poetry glorifying a pointless act of intimacy.

I’m leaning against the bookshelves when it occurs to me that one thing here is real-the books. I reach behind me and let my fingers trail over the rough leather of their antique spines, then pull one free. Nobody here reads them; the books are for decoration. Chosen for the richness of their leather bindings not for the contents of their pages. Nobody will miss one, and I need a dose of reality.

He would lose every game. And he still insisted on playing. I wondered at the futility of it. If it is the definition of insanity to repeat the same process and expect a different outcome, most of humanity must be insane.

It’s not about what I say, right? It’s what I do that matters here.

If it is the definition of insanity to repeat the same process and expect a different outcome, most of humanity must be insane.

But they have not seen their sun die. Their people burn. Their world end. And they do not know, yet, that there are some breaks that cannot be fixed.

Now I feel adrift – except for the tether binding me here, to this girl at my side.

I’m not going to sit here and spitball about hyperspatial reality theory with a psychopathic calculator. This conversation is over.