Cuevas Quotes & Sayings

Exactly. You like me. The word you use was like. You'll find someone better than me. Someone you'll love and not just like. — Kristine Cuevas

And just as I thought that my happy ending was beginning, it had to end so soon even though it hadn't started yet. — Kristine Cuevas

I like a lot of talk in a book and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. — John Steinbeck

The flip side of suicide is that it leaves a lingering question in the minds of the people who survived. It's like a cancer that's metastasized. The suicide is the cancer and the metastasis is all these people saying, Why? Why? Why? — Abraham Verghese

Tapping melons with your knuckles is a good way of making your selection in the store, but apparently it's frowned upon at the strip club. — Brad Wilkerson

I loved the feeling of finally falling in love to someone who would love me back. — Kristine Cuevas

Prove to me that you deserved it. — Kristine Cuevas

Change is the nature of nature,'" she read. "'For example, stars expand as they grow older. They grow from a star, to a red super-giant, to a supernova. When a massive star explodes at the end of its life, the explosion dispenses different elements-helium, carbon, oxygen, iron, nickel-across the universe, scattering starduest. That stardust now makes up the planets, including ours. — Michelle Cuevas

Cloud root beer floats and moon grilled cheeses. But their favorite food is stardust. — Michelle Cuevas

The missions were always changing- sometimes collecting jars of rain, paper bags of hiccups, adopting lost moonbeams and folding them into cake batter. Or perhaps investigating glittering slug trails left in the moonlight, finding the owners of abandoned buttons, or playing the sousaphone for caterpillars still in their cocoons. — Michelle Cuevas

The fort.
Where the pair stored their painted scenes and books of made-up languages, their two-man band, and the tiny matchbox bed plus accessories that they made in case, someday, their experiments in the world of shrinking finally panned out. — Michelle Cuevas

A place where a clock's minute and hour hands spread away from its face, flapping like wings. A place where he'd pluck a daisy and watch the petals whirl like the propellers of a helicopter. Where he'd throw a handful of sand, and the grains would buzz away like a swarm of gnats. Where colorful fruits on a tree would burst into flight, and new ones would perch in their place. — Michelle Cuevas

In war, events of importance are the result of trivial causes. — Gaius Iulius Caesar

This, I thought, was why the bees and birds landed on him--he clearly had a whole world inside him with rivers of honey and a heart made from flowers. Bernard was just like a closed bud, an acorn with a tree inside, a song yet to be heard. — Michelle Cuevas

Friendship matters first. — Kristine Cuevas

But why always think the worst of people? What would she be doing to herself if she adopted that attitude to life? It was better to think the best and be wrong than to think the worst and be wrong. — Mary Balogh

Many Republicans have always reminded me of professional W.W.F. wrestlers. They come into the ring all pumped up and acting like they're invincible and that they're going to destroy their opponent. Then they get hit once and fall down and roll around in agony and suddenly seem immobilized by pain, calling for the ref to intervene. — Paul Feig

An idea is a curious thing. It will not work unless you do. — Hannah Whitall Smith

I love doing interviews that are about work that I do, films that I make. I am not very interested in the rest. I think I have always been quite reserved and a bit frightened of that whole thing. — Alicia Vikander

To tell the truth, I was beginning to think you would be in awe of anyone if you saw the parts of them that no one else gets to see. If you could watch them making up little songs, and doing funny faces in the mirror; if you saw them high-fiving a leaf on a tree, or stopping to watch a green inchworm hanging midair from an invisible thread, or just being really different and lonely and crying sometimes at night. Seeing them, the real them, you couldn't help but think that anyone and everyone is amazing. — Michelle Cuevas

Jacques wants a pancake shaped like Mozart's Symphony No. 40! In G minor! — Michelle Cuevas

We're all on the same page. — Iris Cuevas

You rarely know, in the moment, when it's the last time you'll do something. Most of the time, the whole thing just sneaks away in the night, never to be seen or heard from again, not even sending back so much as a postcard to say hello. — Michelle Cuevas

If he didn't want to talk about it, I wouldn't mention anything. I wanted him to open it up for me, not me intruding and asking questions to him. — Kristine Cuevas

Love is not all you need. I need time ... a lot of it. Love won't help me forget. It was the reason why I'm like this. It was all the reason behind this pain I am feeling. Because. Of. Love. — Kristine Cuevas

It's like a nesting doll of imagination! It's like a painting of a painting! It's like the wind catching a chill from the wind, or a wave taking a dip in the ocean. It's like reading a novel that merely describes another novel. It's like music tapping its foot to a tune and saying 'Oh! I love this song! — Michelle Cuevas

He saw the kind of beauty yellow flowers have growing over a carpet of dead leaves. The beauty of cracks forming a mosaic in a dry riverbed, of emerald-green algae at the base of a seawall, of a broken shard from a blue bottle. The beauty of a window smudged with tiny prints. The beauty of wild weeds. — Michelle Cuevas

Would I ever find the perfect note to fill the music sheet that I had? — Kristine Cuevas

things like how to tell the age of a tree, the dances of the moon and tides, and the names of the clouds-like cumulonimbus and nimbosttratus-that sounded lie magic spells on his tongue. — Michelle Cuevas

Sulfuric ether was sweet and hot, pungent and burning to the palate. It did not smell the least, to Nardi, of turpentine, but rather of large, white, oversweet flowers, fat, fleshy, prehistoric in their size and substance. He thought of these flowers as fringed, mouthed, and pistiled with sticky aroma, with pink-tipped, translucent styles and stigmas that moved in flower throats like beckoning fingers. Lush, languorously heavy, meltingly ephemeral, an indulgence to the New World tropics or an Old World greenhouse - something akin to night-blooming cereus. Ether, to him, was the nectar of such flowers, gathered and carried in the mouths of foot-long bumblebees, its aroma as old as Egypt, as modern as white walled hospitals, as personal and familiar as his own vague euphoric befuddlement. — Judy Cuevas

Everyone has a secret. — Kristine Cuevas

The truth is...you're only as invisible as you feel, imaginary or not. — Michelle Cuevas