288 Quotes by Nenia Campbell

She was full of fire and he had never wanted to burn so badly.

She pressed herself to him willingly, opening his mouth with her lips. He’d been expecting a fight, and a heartbeat before he kissed her back she felt all the tension melt from his body and he yielded to her fully, bending to her like a blade of grass against the wind.

Her world fragmented into dozens of sharp, cutting shards, shedding the salty blood and saltier tears that ringed the bitter cocktail of her despair. She was caterpillar and butterfly, both, caught in a cocoon of raw nerves and open sores; she was insanity, wrapped up in the thin, transient wrappings of a temporary lucidity; and she was afraid, because an innate desire lay in the bottom reaches of her psyche for the very poison that was killing her.

He acted like a libertine of Europe with a genteel Southern propriety—and had all the morals of an emotionless psychopath. The two former masked the latter, like leaves covering a snare. You didn't notice the steel jaws until they were impaled in your flesh, and by then it was already far too late to run.

She said my glasses made me look like a butch jock's locker room bitch.

Butt holes are like a one-way street; they were made the way they were for a reason.

Manners,” I say. “It ain't polite to taste people. Shit.

Everything's just fucking Disney with you.

I'm more than a few neurons shy of a synapse right now, and it feels absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.