520 Quotes by Melina Marchetta

Do you think people have noticed that I'm around?”“I notice when you're not. Does that count?

Come here,” she says.“No, you come here.”“I said it first.”“Rock paper scissors.”“No. Because you’ll do nerdy calculations and work out what I chose the last six times and then you’ll win.”Will pushes away from the table and his hand snakes out and he pulls her toward him and Tom figures that Will was always going to go to her first.

It’s Tolstoy, by the way,” I say as I open the door.He turns around. “What?”Shut up, I tell myself. Shut up.“The writer of Anna Karenina. Not Trotsky. Trotsky was a revolutionary who was stabbed with apickax in Mexico in 1940. But I can understand how the T thing could confuse you.

Comfort zones are overrated. They make you lazy.

Love’s easy. It kind of comes with the territory. But liking is another story.

I met you at the cornerstone on the highway to bedlam./Walked with you to the pinnacle, along that ledge to hell,/Traveled along the passageway of all things aching,/But would crawl with you if you wanted me to/On the steeple point to hope./So we can tip the stars and hold the moon,/Graze the sun, but make it soon.

So between you and me," I tell Justine on the phone that night, "we're either bitchy or stupid.""Oh God," she moans. "Everyone thinks I'm an idiot.""Thanks!

The grief hits her hard one day. the way it can't be controlled. The way that yesterday can be good and so can the day before, and so can the week and fortnight before that, but then today comes and she's back to zero. How she can't type words into her computer or even press the in-box for her mail. The effort it takes to walk. How words can't form in her mouth and how her blood feels paralyzed.

She rubbed it onto his hands one day in Year Eleven, feeling the texture of his fingertips, callused by the strings of his guitar, and his palms, rough from woodwork. ("Productive, despite your lazy streak," she had said, inspecting them.)