Jonah Quotes

“I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver

“I don't want to let go, because tonight I'm not looking for anything more than being part of him. Because being part of him isn't just anything. It's kind of everything.”
― Melina Marchetta, On the Jellicoe Road

“Jonah and Catcher shared one of those manly, “It’s nice to meet you, but I’m going to barely acknowledge your existence with a small nod because that’s the manly thing to do” gestures.”
― Chloe Neill, Drink Deep

“If I had to wish for something, just one thing, it would be that Hannah would never see Tate the way I did. Never see Tate's beautiful, lush hair turn brittle, her skin sallow, her teeth ruined by anything she could get her hands on that would make her forget. That Hannah would never count how many men there were, or how vile humans can be to one another. That she would never see the moments in my life that were full of neglect, and fear, and revulsion, moments I can never go back to because I know they will slow me down for the rest of my life if I let myself remember them for one moment. Tate, who had kept Hannah alive that night, reading her the story of Jem Finch and Mrs. Dubose. And suddenly I know I have to go. But this time without being chased by the Brigadier, without experiencing the kindness of a postman from Yass, and without taking along a Cadet who will change the way I breath for the rest of my life.”
― Melina Marchetta, On the Jellicoe Road

“And suddenly I know I have to go. But this time without being chased by the Brigadier, without experiencing the kindness of a postman from Yass, and without taking along a Cadet who will change the way I breath for the rest of my life.”
― Melina Marchetta, On the Jellicoe Road

“My world had been fading to gray until she burst in like a bombshell of color and light...”
― Emma Scott, Full Tilt

“He kissed me as if I were something delicate and precious, something he cherished and held with reverence. "My first kiss. This is my first real kiss.”
― Emma Scott, Full Tilt

“I have spoken of Jonah, and of the story of him and the whale. — A fit story for ridicule, if it was written to be believed; or of laughter, if it was intended to try what credulity could swallow; for, if it could swallow Jonah and the whale it could swallow anything.”
― Thomas Paine, The Age of Reason

“ She remembers rehearsals. Wrong notes turning to right ones, dissonance becoming harmony. She remembers “O Holy Night” sounding so perfect, in the end, her voice wrapping itself around Jonah’s like they were created just for this. She remembers his smile at her from across their shared mic.
She remembers getting asked to reprise her duet with Jonah a year later. Just after everything happened with Luke. But then Mr. Boyden took her aside. Told her that Jonah had backed out. He’d said he was too busy for extra rehearsals, but she knew: it was because of her. She saw it in Jonah’s face, in the way he avoided her eyes. She saw it in everyone else’s faces too. She was a bullet he’d just dodged.
She remembers standing up for the solo she was given instead—her last performance before she quit choir. She remembers opening her mouth, nothing coming out. She’d cleared her throat, tried again. Her voice emerged, but all wrong: small and shaky and sharp. With everyone looking at her, with the rumors still swirling, she felt exposed. She felt small and shaky and sharp. Vulnerable, but made of angles and thorns. ”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Thank you Jonah."
He lowers his head at the break in my voice. I ignore the moisture in his eyes and pretend that mine don't sting.
"For what?" he whispers.
" For showing me that people can change. Even if it is one person out of a million.”
― Katie McGarry, Red at Night

“God let [Jonah] go his own way, as he does with us when we insist on running our own show; but because God is merciful, he will make sure that any way we take away from him doesn’t work out so well.”
― Lydia Brownback, Trust: A Godly Woman's Adornment

“There are many people who have no idea what they should be living for, or the meaning of their lives, nor have they any guide to tell right from wrong. God looks down at people in that kind of spiritual fog, that spiritual stupidity, and he doesn’t say, “You idiots.” When we look at people who have brought trouble into their lives by their own foolishness, we say things like “Serves them right” or we mock them on social media: “What kind of imbecile says something like this?” When we see people of the other political party defeated, we just gloat. This is all a way of detaching ourselves from them. We distance ourselves from them partly out of pride and partly because we don’t want their unhappiness to be ours. God doesn’t do that. Real compassion, the voluntary attachment of our heart to others, means the sadness of their condition makes us sad; it affects us. That is deeply uncomfortable, but it is the character of compassion. (121)”
― Timothy Keller

“After a few minutes, she speaks up again. “You’re next. Sing.”
Anxiety grips Hallelujah’s chest, squeezing. “I don’t sing,” she says.
“C’mon, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad. It’s not like this is a concert hall—”
“She’s not bad.” Jonah’s back. “She has a great voice.”
Rachel swings around to look from Jonah to Hallelujah. “Really? Now you have to—”
“No."
“But—”
“I don’t sing,” Hallelujah repeats, turning away.
Jonah joins them by the fire. The silence stretches out. Except it’s not really silent, not with the birds and wind and fire and how loud Hallelujah’s heart is beating. And then Jonah clears his throat. “You used to sing,” he says. “You were great.”
Hallelujah ignores the compliment. She looks into the fire. She feels the last of the day’s happiness fading away, already a memory.
“Why’d you quit?” Jonah asks. “Was it ’cause of Luke?”
Hallelujah inhales deeply. She feels the familiar spark of anger in her gut. “Yes,” she says. “It was because of Luke. And you. And everyone else. So thanks for that.” Jonah’s face drops. She can see that she’s hit a nerve. Well, he hurt her first. The way he took Luke’s side, shutting her out. The loss of his friendship, when she needed a friend most. The loss of their voices harmonizing, when she needed music most. How she just hurt him can’t begin to compare to all of that.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“He’s looking at her with so much compassion. Like he knows what she’s going through. Like he cares about her. This is what she wanted to see after everything happened with Luke. Instead, she saw Jonah’s back, every time he turned and walked away from her.
She blurts, “Why are you being nice to me?"
She regrets it immediately. It’s the vulnerability talking. The fear. The adrenaline. For a second, she forgot the aloof, thick-skinned Hallelujah she needs to be.
Jonah relaxes his grip. He looks away, out into the wet woods. He waits a long time before speaking. “Luke told me.”
Hallelujah is instantly tense. “Luke told you what?”
Another long pause. “That he lied. About what happened that night.”
“What happened?” Rachel cuts in. “What’d Luke lie about?”
Hallelujah ignores her. She stays focused on Jonah, even though he won’t look at her. “What’d he tell you originally?”
Jonah flinches. “He made it . . . worse. Than what he told the adults. He said that that wasn’t the first time. And he said that you—”
“Never mind,” Hallelujah cuts in. “I can guess.” She’s heard the rumors. The persistent ones and the surprising, weird, creative ones. She bets there are a lot that she hasn’t heard, too. “None of that happened,” she says softly but firmly, certain without even knowing exactly what Luke said. What Jonah heard. “None of it.”
“That’s what he told me yesterday. I wanted to know why he was still—” He swallows, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I’d heard him and Brad laughing about what they were gonna do to you this week, and I was like, enough is enough. Time to let it go. So I asked him what was up. Why he was still messing with you.”
“And?” Hallelujah asks.
“And he told me the truth: that he’d made most of it up. He said he had to keep you quiet. Plus, um. He said messing with you was fun.”
Hallelujah lets that sink in. “You really didn’t know it was a lie? You believed him this whole time?”
Jonah suddenly looks right at her. His eyes plead. “I saw you, Hallie. And Luke was the only one of the two of you with a story to explain it.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Hallelujah can barely breathe through the pain of each step. Rachel is panting from the effort of holding Hallelujah up. Still, when they get closer to the clearing, Rachel manages to call out: “Jonah! Help!”
There’s a rustling noise up ahead. Twigs snapping. And then Jonah appears. His face is in shadow, but his voice is worried: “What happened?”
“I turned my ankle,” Hallelujah says. “I’m okay.”
“She’s not okay,” Rachel gasps. “She can’t put weight on it. Can you carry her?”
Jonah doesn’t hesitate. He wraps one arm around Hallelujah’s waist, and then he scoops up her legs with the other. In a single, fluid motion, she’s off the ground. She holds on to his shoulders. For a second, she thinks about how strange this is—to be held like this, to be held by Jonah.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Jonah is something. Jonah’s opinion matters. And she doesn’t want him to hurt because of her.
She and Jonah will never be what they were. Too much has happened. But maybe they could become something else.
She decides to take the first step. “Jonah,” she says.
He looks over at her. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low.
“Don’t be. I forgive you,” she tells him. It sounds so formal. I forgive you. But it helps to say it out loud.
“Thanks. I don’t know if I deserve that. But thanks.”
“You do. Of course you do.” Hallelujah says it firmly. “And—I want to.” I’ve missed you, she adds silently. She’s not ready to say that part. Not yet.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Open the bag, open the bag, open the bag!” he says, bounding through the thigh-deep water. She does. He dumps the second fish inside, and she zips it closed.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” Hallelujah calls out as Jonah splashes away from her again.
“Neither did I!” He lunges sideways with a loud whoop, misses his footing, and sits down in the water. He’s up again in a second, shaking himself off like a dog. “But I’m not going to stop until the fish get smart enough to figure out what I’m doing and—” Lunge. Splash. Up. Shake. “—run away!”
“Run?”
“Whatever!”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Jonah’s hair sprays water each time he flips around, in search of another fish. Droplets shimmer on his skin. He’s really cute. And Hallelujah can’t help but think about last night. About him liking her. He flashes her a smile, and something inside her swoons.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Jonah peels off his wet shirt and spreads it out on the ground in the sun. For a second, all Hallelujah can see is his bare skin. She blushes and looks away, not turning back until she hears the zip of his jacket closing. Now he’s looking at her. She doesn’t know if he caught her staring.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Rachel’s the first one to speak. “So—he told you.”
“Told me what?”
“Come on, Hal. What’s changed since yesterday?” Rachel sneaks one arm out of her jacket cocoon to give Hallelujah a soft punch in the shoulder. “I may not be at my best right now, but I’m not blind.” She pauses. “Or deaf.”
Hallelujah feels her face get hot. “Oh. What did you hear?”
“Bits and pieces. I was really out of it last night, after . . . whatever that was. After almost freezing to death.” Rachel shudders. “I have to say, it was totally obvious from the get-go that Jonah liked you.”
“It was?” Hallelujah is still surprised. She still doesn’t quite believe it.
“Um, yeah. Or did you think he’s out here for me?” Rachel says slowly, as if to a child, “You followed me. He followed you.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“So how did you think about him?” Rachel asks.
Hallelujah shrugs. “We were friends. Good friends. He knew—knows—a lot about me. I guess I know a lot about him. Stuff he likes and doesn’t like.”
Rachel looks skeptical. “And yet you never knew he liked you.”
“No! I mean—when Jonah and I were friends, I liked Luke. So maybe I missed some signs.”
“So you just . . . hung out? Platonically?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Hallelujah thinks about how to explain it. How to distill a friendship down to its most basic components. “We had choir together last year. We talked. For kind of the first time, even though we’d been in church and school together since fourth grade.”
“And, what, you found out you had so much in common?”
“Actually, no. But we started comparing music we liked, and a month into ninth grade, Jonah made me this mix of songs. Based on what we’d talked about. So then I made him a mix. And it grew from there. We’d go to each other’s houses, watch movies, listen to music, that kind of thing. Hanging out.”
“So tell me about Jonah. Something only you know.”
“Um. He’d probably deny it, but he got really into the Harry Potter books. Like, really into them. I loaned him my box set last spring. He got so mad at me for not warning him how Book Six ends.”
Rachel laughs. “He didn’t see the movies?”
“No. But I told him we couldn’t watch them until he’d finished the books.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Rachel inches over until they’re huddling together. “Do you like him back? Now?”
The answer’s just as automatic as the apology. Still, it comes out as a whisper: “Yeah.” She takes a deep breath, gives voice to some of the noise in her head. “But what if I’m just feeling this because we’re out here and it’s scary and he feels safe? Or what if I’m just relieved to have my friend back, but I don’t like him like him? I don’t even know why he’d choose me. Then or now.”
Rachel drops her head down onto Hallelujah’s shoulder. She nuzzles into Hallelujah’s neck, like a cat. “Hal, despite the giant prickly wall you’ve put up around yourself with the neon Off Limits sign flashing at the gate—”
Hallelujah lets out a small laugh at this picture of herself.
“—you’re nice. Like I said when I told you about my parents, you listen. And you care. Which is more than I can say for about three-quarters of the high school population. And you’re pretty. And while I’ve never heard you sing, obviously Jonah likes that about you.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Jonah shifts to lean back a little farther, moaning as he does. “Holy heck, my leg hurts,” he says, still with that strained, forced lightness.
Again, Hallelujah mimics his tone. “‘Holy heck’? That’s cutting it close.”
“I have a gash in my leg the size of the Mississippi. I can say whatever I want.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“ She remembers the last perfect evening before everything happened, perfect even though she didn’t know everything was about to change. Karaoke night. A bunch of kids from choir cheering each other on. When it was her turn, Hallelujah belted out “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” She went for every melodramatic note, closing her eyes and beating her chest. She got the whole group to sing along.
She remembers Jonah taking the stage next. When he sang the opening lines to Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places,” the room went nuts. He put on a cowboy drawl and sent the low notes reverberating through the wooden floorboards. She remembers him tipping an imaginary Stetson at her when he was done.
In a week, Hallelujah would get caught making out with Luke Willis. He would humiliate her and start spreading lies about her. She would become someone quiet and sad and resentful. But right then, performance-flushed and surrounded by friends, she couldn’t stop smiling. ”
― Kathryn Holmes

“She stands there for a second, watching the bear go. The morning light has truly arrived, and she can see the bear clearly, smaller and smaller and then hidden by trees.
She starts to tremble. She staggers. Falls off the log, hitting the ground hard. The panic-breath is back. Her eyes well up, and for a second she can’t see anything, just her own tears. And she can’t breathe. And she’s shaking all over, jerky and painful, like Rachel was when she got too cold.
“Hallie!” She hears her own name as if from a distance, through the roar of blood in her head. “Hallie, come here. Hallie!”
It’s Jonah’s voice.
There’s something else: a low, keening, gasping sound.
“Hallie! I can’t get over to you. You have to come to me.”
It takes her a second to realize what he’s saying. And to realize that the keening, the gasping, is her. She blinks enough to see Jonah reaching out for her.
She pulls herself in that direction. Her arms feel like newborn faun legs, spindly and weak. She has no strength left. The bear took it.
Jonah’s arms go around her. He pulls her to his chest.
“Hey,” he says. “Hey, it’s okay. You did it. It’s gone. It’s okay.”
He rocks her like a baby, holds her like she held him last night. There’s no self-consciousness left. Just arms holding and voice soothing and hearts beating, and the hysteria passes and she drops off to sleep.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“Do you want to, um, sit? Up here?”
The open bit of mattress next to him. Jonah smiling, now looking a little shy. His shyness makes her shy. “Okay,” she says.
Jonah scoots over, wincing as he moves his right leg. When he’s settled, resting back against his pillows, Hallelujah takes hold of the bedrail and climbs up to sit next to him. Her legs are surprisingly shaky, and she’s happy to stretch them out next to Jonah’s.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“And you and me, we’re . . . ?” He doesn’t finish the question. He doesn’t have to.
“Yeah,” Hallelujah repeats. “You and me.”
Jonah tilts his head so it meets hers on the pillow. They lie there, side by side, with him under the sheets and her on top of them, holding hands and touching foreheads. Jonah’s eyes are closed. Just when she thinks he must have fallen asleep, he murmurs, “Stay.”
“Okay.”
Outside the window, clouds are rolling in over the mountains. A storm. But beyond the band of rain clouds, the sky is blue again. Bright, shining blue. The storm won’t last long. And, Hallelujah realizes, sometimes you need the storm to really appreciate the sun and the blue sky.
Jonah is breathing evenly. She can feel each exhale on the side of her neck.
She smiles, and she stays.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“In the silence, Hallelujah realizes that Jonah hasn’t said a word since confirming that Luke kicked him and Brad out of their hotel room. He has his eyes closed, but he’s definitely not sleeping. His mouth is tight. He’s breathing deeply too, but it’s on purpose. And when he opens his eyes to see Hallelujah looking at him, he gets up abruptly. He adds more wood to their fire. He paces a circle around their camp.
Then he says, in that low, dangerous voice Hallelujah heard for the first time at the party three nights ago, “I’m gonna kill him.” He circles the campfire again.
A part of Hallelujah feels a little thrill at Jonah’s anger. That he’s this worked up on her behalf. The other part of her—a bigger part—doesn’t like seeing him like this. She says, not because she believes it but because she wants to calm him down, “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Jonah says, but he stops pacing. He looks at her, and then at his fists. “Right. I won’t kill him. But it would feel really good to punch him in the face.” And then it’s like the anger drains out of him. He shakes his head. He pops his knuckles, slowly, one by one.”
― Kathryn Holmes

“I have to tell you something." Jonah spreads his jacket over the three of them. Hallelujah tucks the sleeve under her body. It’s like they’re being held together. Embraced.
“I—” He takes a deep breath. “I really liked you. The whole time you liked Luke, I . . . I liked you. I was even going to ask you to ride on the ski lift with me in the fall, but Luke told me you’d already asked him.”
Hallelujah is genuinely surprised. “He asked me.”
“I know that now. I didn’t know it then. And you didn’t exactly look like you minded riding with him. Kissing him. And then when we walked in on you two—uh—making out—”
“We were not making out,” Hallelujah cuts in. “I mean, not any more . . .”
“Right. But like I said, I didn’t know that. You were practically on top of him, and you looked like—and Luke said it was all your idea, and you didn’t say anything, not then and not after—” He breaks off. Picks up again. “I didn’t like thinking about you doing something like that. I was mad. I wanted it to be me. That’s why I didn’t stand up for you. I liked you,” Jonah repeats”
― Kathryn Holmes

“We can know all the scriptures, do all the stuff, obey all the rules, but if we aren’t willing to be offended by His reconciling love, if we aren’t willing to repent, to change our thoughts, to step away from us and them thinking, then we are missing the whole point.
This Jonah story is on every page of the Bible and in every cell of our bodies. Over and again, God is revealing Himself perfectly through Christ as gracious, compassionate, slow to anger, forgiving, redeeming, restoring, abounding in love, and desiring to save us from calamity.”
― Jason Clark