Lana Quotes

“In the Land of Gods and Monsters I was an angel looking to get fucked hard”
― Lana Del Rey

“No one vinces me, baby”
― Michael Grant, Fear

“You're staring," Lana said.
"Yes. I am. I'm a teenage boy. Beautiful girls in wet underwear have a tendency to cause staring in teenage boys.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“No," Lana said, "I'm not going to heal your scratch."
"Good," Sanjit said.
"Good? Why good?"
"Because when you hold my hand, I don't want it to be work for you.”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“So asking you to take a moonlit walk with me, that would totally not work?"
"What?" Again that glare. "Go away. Stop being an idiot. I don't even know you."
"You're healing my little brother Bowie."
"Yeah, that doesn't make us friends, kid."
"So no moonlight."
"Are you retarded?"
"Sunrise? I could get up early."
"Go away."
"Sunset tomorrow?" -Sanjit & Lana”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“Yeah. A feeling. Like the whole point of my life from the alleys in Bangkok to the yachts and private island to coming here like a crazy person trying to fly a helicopter like all of it from birth to here point A to point Z was all some big cosmic trick to get me to meet you. - Sanjit to Lana”
― Michael Grant, Plague

“Can I get a lock for my tent?

Bears can't unzip tents, Lana.

Well, chainsaw psychos who wander the woods looking for young girls all alone to chop up into pieces can.

There are no chainsaw psychos! I can't believe you've never been camping. It's safe, Lana. I promise.

Easy for you to say. You'll be snuggled up safely in the arms of Beau Vincent. I'm more than positive he could take on a black bear.”
― Abbi Glines, The Vincent Brothers

“I've never been able to grow an organ back," Lana said. "Last time I tried... Let's just hope you don't end up with whip eyes.”
― Michael Grant, Fear

“Pienso que el arte merece ser compartido y llegar a otros. Crecer con cada interpretación, tener una forma según quién lo mire. Por eso me gusta el abstracto. Y también pienso que los pintores o los músicos o los escritores solo somos instrumentos para que se haga realidad, y no deberíamos ser más importantes que el lápiz que utilizamos, el micrófono que nos graba o el piano que tocamos.”
― Javier Ruescas, El (sin)sentido del amor

“Hello, freak,” Drake said.
Lana backed away, but too late. Drake leveled his gun at her.
“I’m right-handed. ’Least I used to be. But I can still hit you from this distance.”
“What do you want?”
Drake motioned toward the stump of his right arm. It was gone from just above the elbow. “What do you think I want?”
The one time she’d seen Drake Merwin, he had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance.
“I’ll try,” Lana said.
“You’ll do more than try,” he said. He convulsed in pain, face scrunched. A low, eerie moan escaped his throat.
“I don’t know if I can grow a whole arm back,” Lana said. “Let me touch it.”
“Not here,” he hissed. He motioned with his gun. “Through the back door.”
“If you shoot me, I can’t help you,” Lana argued.
“Can you heal dogs? How about if I blow his brains out? Can you heal that, freak?”
― Michael Grant

“Lana's going through them one at a time. Healing them. She's amazing."
Sam thought he heard something extra in Edilio's voice. "She's cute too, huh Edilio?"
Edilio's eyes went wide and started blushing. "She's just...you know..."
Sam slapped his shoulder. "Good luck with that."
"You think she...I mean, you know me, I'm just..." Edilio stammered his way to a stop.
"Dude, let's see if we can stay alive. Then you can ask her out or whatever.”
― Michael Grant

“Um, people.”
It wasn’t hard to get their attention. They gathered around. Even the littlest ones toned down their giggling, at least a bit.
“First of all, thanks to Albert and his helpers for this meal. Let’s give it up for the true Mac Daddy.”
A round of hearty applause and some laughter, and Albert waved sheepishly. He frowned a little too, obviously conflicted about the use of the “Mac” prefix in a way that was not approved in the McDonald’s manual.
“And we have to mention Lana and Dahra, because without them, there would be a lot fewer of us here.”
Now the applause was almost reverential.
“Our first Thanksgiving in the FAYZ,” Sam said when the applause died down.
“Hope it’s our last,” someone shouted.
“Yeah. You got that right,” Sam agreed. “But we’re here. We’re here in this place we never wanted to be. And we’re scared. And I’m not going to lie and tell you that from here on, it will all be easy. It won’t be. It will be hard. And we’ll be scared some more, I guess. And sad. And lonely. Some terrible things have happened. Some terrible things…” For a moment, he lost his way. But then he stood up straighter again. “But, still, we are grateful, and we give thanks to God, if you believe in Him, or to fate, or to just ourselves, all of us here.”
“To you, Sam,” someone shouted.
“No, no, no.” He waved that off. “No. We give thanks to the nineteen kids who are buried right there.” He pointed at the six rows of three, plus the one who started a seventh row. Neat hand-painted wooden tombstones bore the names of Bette and too many others.
“And we give thanks to the heroes who are standing around here right now eating turkey. Too many names to mention, and they’d all just be embarrassed, anyway, but we all know them.”
There was a wave of loud, sustained applause, and many faces turned toward Edilio and Dekka, Taylor and Brianna, and some toward Quinn.
“We all hope this will end. We all hope we’ll soon be back in the world with people we love. But right now, we’re here. We’re in the FAYZ. And what we’re going to do is work together, and look out for each other, and help each other.” People nodded, some high-fived.
“Most of us are from Perdido Beach. Some are from Coates. Some of us are…well, a little strange.” A few titters. “And some of us are not. But we’re all here now, we’re all in it together. We’re going to survive. If this is our world now…I mean, it is our world now. It is our world. So, let’s make it a good one.”
He stepped down in silence.
Then someone started clapping rhythmically and saying, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” Others joined in, and soon every person in the plaza, even some of the prees, was chanting his name.”
― Michael Grant

“Guys, he’s hurt bad.”
The blonde scrambled to him. She tore the wounded boy’s shirt open. A river of blood ran down his chest.
“Oh, God, no,” the blonde cried.
Lana pushed her aside and laid a hand against the pumping wound. “He’ll live,” Lana said. “I’ll fix him.”
“What do you mean, you’ll fix him?” the blonde demanded. “We need stitches, we need a doctor. Look at how he’s bleeding.”
Lana said, “What’s your name?”
“Astrid, what does it matter? He’s…” She stopped talking then and leaned in close to see. “The bloodflow is slowing.”
“Yeah. I noticed that, too,” Lana said dryly. “Relax. He’ll be fine. In fact…” She tilted her head to get a better look at him. “In fact, I’ll bet when he’s not covered in blood, he’s cute. Your boyfriend?”
“That’s not what it’s about,” Astrid snapped. Then, in a low voice, like she didn’t want the others to hear, she said, “Kind of.”
― Michael Grant

“I’ll tell you all about it, but let’s eat first. I’ve had nothing to eat. Although I was offered some raw squirrel. Canned pudding, that’s what I want. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
She hauled out a can and feverishly worked the can opener. She didn’t wait for a dish or spoon, but thrust her hand in and scooped some into her mouth. Then she stood transfixed, overwhelmed by the wonderful sweetness of it.
She was crying when she said, “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten how to be polite. I’ll get you guys your own can.”
Sam hobbled over and scooped some pudding of his own, following her lead. “I’m way past polite myself,” he said, although she could see he was a little appalled by her wolfish behavior. She decided then that she liked him.”
― Michael Grant

“Dare to blaze.”
― Lana M.H. Wilder

“¿Qué sientido tiene estar segura cuando se trata de amor?”
― Javier Ruescas

“It’s a rare eighteen-year-old who’s ready to jump out into the world without a net.”
― Charli Coty, Speedbump