156 Quotes by Cath Crowley

I pull the blanket around my shoulders, and the customer looking at the classics section gives me a sympathetic look. I give him one back because, as much as I love books, if you are in the classic’s section first thing in the morning, then there’s something not entirely right with your life either.

If a person wants to spend forever with you, that’s Love.

Second hand books have a way of travelling, sure. But what travels forward can come back.

Art like that doesn’t need words. That painting tells you something by pulling you into it and pushing you out and you know what it’s saying without words being spoken.

Gorilla, a guy who got his name because he’s hairy and because his arms are so long his knuckles scrape the floor. He’s grinning and moving closer and she’s blocked in on all sides by a mass of bodies. I look at her and him. I look at the window. I think back to our date. She can always break his nose if he gets too friendly. I jump through, land on the grass, and turn around. Who am I kidding? I want to see it if she breaks his nose.

But I believe we have choices – how we love and how much, what we read, where we travel. How we live after the person we love has died or left us. Whether or not we decide to take the risk and live again.

You’re weird,” she said, falling asleep. “But that’s okay. it makes me seem normal.

A dry, bookless world. It’s too bleak to even imagine.

Open your eyes, Charlie love,′ Mum whispers. ‘You’ll miss out on the day.’ Not a lot to miss out on, really. My days have been sort of shakey lately. Like a voice running out of breath. Like a hand playing the blues. Like a girl losing her bikini top in the pool at Jeremy Magden’s final party for Year 10 last week, if we’re getting specific. Mum says look on the bright side. Okay. I guess I was only half naked.