16 Quotes by Elizabeth Langston

A book was mere paper splattered with ink until a reader’s mind gave it life.

Obviously, genies worked out in their off-hours. He looked so good it was distracting.

We could’ve been a still photo, the kind from a booth at the mall where two dollars went in and a strip of three shots came out. Our image wasn’t the first shot, the one that was always frantic and unfocused. It wasn’t the second shot either--laughing and silly. No, this was the final image--the serious shot--where the couple realized they wanted a good picture to remember the moment by and couldn’t afford to screw the last one up.

I knew a sudden shyness. There was a look on his face, a stillness to his body that had never been there before. Though I couldn’t give the emotion a name, I felt it, too. We had something special. Something hard to define. Something past friendship.“I must go now,” I said and rose up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, marveling at its velvet skin. “Thank you for the book.”He drew me into his embrace and sighed. “Thank you for the stars.

Friend. Before Mark, I’d known its definition. Now I knew its meaning.

Have you ever experienced human love?”“Yes. Once.”Regret shadowed his face. “Then why would you be willing to repeat it?”“What we learn is worth more than what we lose.

Camarin and I are both baffled by the pleasure humans find with bowling. The noise is maddening, the equipment unsanitary, and the repetition boring.

I loved her in ways I understood, full of physical aches and the need to be near her whenever I could. But I also loved her in ways that were unfamiliar, with an intensity that made me willing to attempt the impossible.

There it was again, that strange sensation. Sort of floaty. Completely lovely. “Why aren’t we kissing yet?”“The same question had crossed my mind.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to mine.I could never get enough of this sweet, crazy kissing. How did anyone ever get anything done when they were falling in love?