Lucy Christopher Quotes - Page 2

I wrapped my arms around me as tightly as I could, and stared up at the stars. Had I not been so cold and wanting to escape so badly, I could have stared at them forever: They were amazingly beautiful, so dense and bright. My eyes could get lost up there if I left them looking long enough. [...] They swallowed me up. They were like a hundred thousand tiny candles, sending out hope.

Who says I'm not Superman?" You were looking at me with one eye closed against the sun. I shrugged "You would have recued me by now if you were Superman." I said quietly. "Who says I haven't? " Anyone would say you haven't. Anyone's just looking at it wrong then." You pushed yourself up a little, onto your elbows."Anyways, I can't steal you and rescue you. That would give me multiple personalities." And you don't have them already?

It happened like this. I was stolen from an airport. Taken from everything I knew, everything I was used to. Taken to sand and heat, dirt and danger. And he expected me to love him. This is my story. A letter from nowhere.

I thought you wanted to catch a camel," you tried again. "No." "I want to." "Well, you go then." You laughed. "I want your beautiful face where I can see it

The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.

There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen

It was so big, that view. I’ll never remember it properly. How can anyone remember something that big? I don’t think people’s brains are designed for memories like that. They’re designed for things like phone numbers, or the color of someone’s hair. Not hugeness.

You told me once of the plants that lie dormant through the drought, that wait, half-dead, deep in the earth. The plants that wait for the rain. You said they'd wait for years, if they had to; that they'd almost kill themselves before they grew again. But as soon as those first drops of water fall, those plants begin to stretch and spread their roots. They travel up through the soil and sand to reach the surface. There's a chance for them again.

There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.

I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.

This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.

I could hear you, talking to the daffodils and tulips, whispering to the fairies that lived inside their petals. Each separate flower had a different family inside it.

I stayed there, curled up into the warmth of your body, under the blankets, like something soft in a shell. Your arms were firm as rock around me.

Everyone wanted answers I wasn't ready to give.

Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.

I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.

You moved my head so that it was lying in your lap. "Keep your eyes open," you said. "Stay with me." I tried. It felt like I was using every muscle in my face. But I did it. I saw you from upside down, your lips above my eyes and your eyes above my lips. "Talk to me," you said. My throat felt like it was closing up, as if my skin had swollen, making my throat a lump of solid flesh. I gripped your hand. "Keep watching me, then," you said. "Keep listening.

When I write this in bed, I can almost hear the echo of the wind over the sand, or the groans of wooden panels around me. I can almost smell the dustiness of the camel, taste the bitterness of saltbush. And when I dream, your warm hands cover my shoulders. Your whispers carry stories and sound like the rustle of spinifex. I still wear that ring, you know... at night, when no one is watching.

How would she find her herd? How would she find you?

It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.

You nodded towards the cup. "Want more?" I shook my head. "What about the car?" "Didn't find it. You were heading back towards me when I found you." "Towards . . . ?" You nodded. "So I reckoned the car had probably got stuck or died somehow, and you were just coming home." "Home?" "Yeah." Your mouth twitched. "Back to me.

In a moment, when I'm ready, I will turn off this computer and that will be it. This letter will be finished. A part of me doesn't want to stop writing to you, but I need to. For both of us.

Doesn't that hurt?" I said. "Yep." "How do you keep them in there?" "I'm stubborn." You grinned. "Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing." "Not always.

You won't be able to hurt me, or touch me.

If there'd been an astronaut on the moon right then, I'm sure I could have seen him. Perhaps he could have looked down and seen me too... the only one who could.