young-adult-fiction

One can't step into the river twice

How quickly we damn ourselves when we start to talk, how small and inglorious we always sound.

I was always taught to write the book you want to read. It's a philosophy I haven't wavered from since.

The afternoon light brightening the green in her eyes, her tan skin the last memory of fall

Writing is an act of faith. One must believe and see people who are invisible to others and be faithful to tell half formed stories. It__ like being on the trail of an apparition who__ repeatedly just out of reach.K. Youngblood

There's something to say about inspiration - when it comes into your life...the feeling is insatiable.

...this two-way hatred. I don__ understand it. I wonder how much of it is caused by fear?

I am made of a thousand ghosts, only you can shoot me down.

Popularity is like a girl in class that you can't ignore. She give you eyes when no one looks then turns to her friends and laughs some more.

I guess it was only fitting that to them PUNK was a four letter word. However, to people like Dylan and I-punk was our hearts-our souls. We grew up with a lot of uncertainties. To be a teenager isn't always pretty, and our music reflected that.

There are moments in our lives that define the people we will become in the future, like a symptom before an ailment, or the catalyst before the cure.

That night, he laid in his bed thinking about all the possibilities. They came like waves in his mind. At first they came slow, then gradually built up speed, cresting into full on dreams, until finally, they broke onto the shore with all of their reality. First dreams, then nightmares.

In times such as these, life often begs us to seek answers when in reality there are only questions available.

Christopher was wearing a suit and adorned make-up. As long as I had known him, he never wore a suit or make-up. The look of him defenseless to his appearance saddened me.

The price of coming from a small town is that everyone knows your story. Your book has been read, shelved, dusted, and re-read by everybody.

Eventually, that feeling fades, but there is always the memory of those days. When you__e young, everything is butterflies. What I mean is__t__ all new. I guess he was telling you to still believe, to hold on to your butterflies.

You know-portraits are odd things." "How do you figure?" I asked. "Well at the time, that portrait told the whole story. It told the truth. We were a family-a happy family. Now that same portrait just looks like a lie.

Couples swayed and embraced to the beat as the singer's vocals soared above a group of confused teenagers and twenty-something's.