#juliette

But the thought of laying a hand on someone brings back a world of memories, feelings, a flush of power I experience only when I make contact with skin not immune to my own. It's a rush of invincibility; a tormented kind of euphoria; a wave of intensity flooding every pore in my body. I don't know what it will do ti me. I don't know if I can trust myself to take pleasure in someone else's pain. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#experience

But he grins, so brilliantly, not even paying attention. “I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn't your name,” I point out. “Your name is *****.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.” “Your name?” “Only when you say it.” “*****? Or Warner?” His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#warner #love

All I know next are his arms, the desperate edge to his voice when he says my name, and I'm unraveling in his embrace, I'm frayed and falling apart and I'm making no effort to control the tremors in my bones and he's so hot his skin is so hot and I don't even know where I am anymore. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#effort

Warner was supposed to be dead. Warner was supposed to be dead because I was supposed to have shot him but no one supposed I'd need to know how to fire a gun so now I suppose he's come to find me. He's come to fight. For me. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#unravel-me #warner #guns

Ah, Ms. Ferrars. I don't know what you hope to accomplish by sitting in the corner. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#juliette #accomplishments

He smiles a small smile. His lips twitch like he's trying not to laugh. His eyes soften as they study my own. "There's very little I wouldn't do for you. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#adam

Crime is to the passions what nervous fluid is to life: it sustains them, it supplies their strength. ↗

— Marquis de Sade

#life