Alexandra Bracken Quotes

She felt the essence of herself pulled finer and smaller like those streams of spun glass that pull and stretch till there remains but a glimmering illusion. Neither falling nor breaking, the stream spins finer. She felt herself very small and ecstatic. Alabama was in love.

I liked just being with you. I liked the way you breathed when you were asleep. I liked when you took the champagne glass from my hand. I liked how your fingers were always too long for your gloves.

They're safe,'' he said. "And you're not made of glass". He swept me up in his arms. I laughed. "And I'm not made of glass." He carried me into our room and kicked the door shut behind us.

There is so much fragility in kissing, in other people: It is all glass.

Love is easily killed.

My softer side? I mean, I like to snuggle.

I do have a sense of displacement as constant instability - the uninterrupted existence of everything that I love and care about is not guaranteed at all. I wait for catastrophes.

I do have a delicate side.

Kissing is kind of scary.

How does this happen? To fall in love and be disassembled.

I was always a lover of soft-winged things.

Love is the most beautiful thing in the world. Unfortunately, it's also one of the hardest things in the world to hold on to, and one of the easiest things to throw away.

He has eyes so expressive they give a hint to more than what he portrays. He’s dedicated to his friends, family, and even his motorcyle. He touched me as if I were made of glass. He kissed me as if he’d savor it for the rest of his life.

It is all a question of sensitiveness. Brute force and overbearing may make a terrific effect. But in the end, that which lives by delicate sensitiveness. If it were a question of brute force, not a single human baby would survive for a fortnight. It is the grass of the field, most frail of all things, that supports all life all the time. But for the green grass, no empire would rise, no man would eat bread: for grain is grass; and Hercules or Napoleon or Henry Ford would alike be denied existence.

Sometimes I wish I could walk around with a HANDLE WITH CARE sign stuck to my forehead.

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Glass, China, and Reputation, are easily cracked, and never well mended.

Love is the scent of a sleeping back, death a slight draft of bad breath.

Then why are you crying?” “Because of you!” I beat my fists on his chest. “Because I love you, and I don’t know what to do! I can solve almost any problem, but I can’t solve this. I don’t know how to deal with that. And I’m afraid! Afraid for you! Do you know what it’d do to me if something happens to you?” I stopped hitting him and clasped my hands over my own chest, as though there was a danger my heart might fall out. “This! This would break. Shatter. Crumble. Crumble until it was dust.” I dropped my hands. “Blown away on the wind until there was nothing left.

I thought: to be tough is to be fragile; to be tender is to be truly fierce.

I find at moments I'm as fragile as glass.

Can you gather your vital breath and yet be tender like a newborn baby?

if only these treasures were not so fragile as they are precious and beautiful.

That you can know what i have in me and still want me as much as i want you. i go to sleep every night afraid i'll wake up and you'll be gone.or that i scared you away ... that i dreamed you-" "no. Gideon." jesus he broke my heart every day. shattered me.

I worry hope will crush me, the way love has so many times before. Are they so different, hope and love? O & E in the same place, half of the other in each word. Both swimming in unknowns. I’ve been through the big changes. These ones should seem easier in comparison, I should be more prepared, but they don’t and I’m not. Sometimes I feel like a broken-wing butterfly, clinging to a window screen. Afraid to let go. Afraid to stay. Wondering how much wing is enough to fly.