Quotes by Nenia Campbell

Time can be as fluid as water, and never in the way youd like; it slows down to a standstill when you wish you could get things over with, and rushes by in a blur when you wish things would last.

You can lie in any language on earth, and body language is no exception.

No. I made that choice. I let all that anger and pain get twisted up in my thoughts for you.” He leaned in. “It fucking kills me. Every night. I relive what I did to you every night.” His forehead rested against mine. “Until you,” he said softly, “I never felt truly helpless.

This softening she sees in me isnt enough to make me affectionate, but its just enough to render me inept. I cant give her what she wants — virtuousness — or what she needs — protection.

I wasnt a complete bastard. If she liked to think she saw good in me, if she wanted to take credit for it, Id let her. She deserved that much.

Thats not cruel. This is. You come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to be awake, and ask—no, demand—me to give you things that belong to me as much as they belong to you. Never mind what it does to me. Never mind that each time I see you, I wonder if Ill ever hold you in my arms again, or be able to touch you without you cringing away like Im a monster. I think its fair to ask if theres an us, my dear, because I suspect youre trying to use me just now. Tell me thats not cruel, and Ill let you go.

Fear could drive one to violence as quickly as anger could.

Too bad. Game over. Insert new fucking quarter.

People say hate is like a poison — but theyre wrong. Its like a drug. You never forget your first hit, how it seduces you with its strength and power, and takes you completely by storm. It colors your world in light and meaning, until you wonder how you ever managed to get by without it. And then, eventually, you get to a point where you cant. It takes over your life, until hating becomes your reason for living.

I was cyber-bullied before all those Myspace-related suicides, so my school principal wasnt really impressed when my mom complained about what was happening to me on my Xanga blog and on AIM chat.“Get your life sorted out, you fucking scitzo [sic] dyke tranny bitch,” one comment might say.Another comment would say something like, “I know shes reading this, shes so pathetic.”And, perhaps most frightening of all: “Im going to fuck you up until your mother bleeds.

Hatred is as easy as slipping on a well-worn woolen cloak. If only it provided the comfort of one.

What was it about us, as humans, that drove us to make apologies for beautiful things?

All lines are gray in the dark.

Im not going to force you into anything you dont want. But Im also not going to take a vow of chastity and pine away for you, or whatever the hell it is that men do in romance novels these days. I have needs. Id rather satisfy them with you, but if you dont want me I suppose Ill just have to find someone else. Might take me a while, but Ill make do. I always have before.

Knowledge is a rope, and youre weaving a noose out of it. Leave some slack for the enemy.

You would do well to guard your tongue, lest it be stricken from you.

I was afraid and knew I had every right to be, but he had awakened a part of me that no longer cared.

Most creatures run when they sense danger. People grab a six-pack and a folding chair.

Thats how it started: a series of small hurts and excuses between two people that built up slowly, widening over time to form a vast and yawning divide.

A story unwritten is without beginning or end. But in its potential lies another story; and in the heartbeat before pen meets page, both stories exist at once, reflecting endless permutations of the other, before one of them disappears forever.