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There is ebb and flow. Leaving and coming. Flight and fall. Sing and silent. Reaching and reached.

Ally Condie

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Ally Condie
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: November 2
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cedar City
Utah
Leaving
Sing
Silent
Flow
Coming
Fall
Reached
Reaching
Flight

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Once you want something, everything changes. Now I want everything. More and more and more.
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Once you want something, everything changes.
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When we read dystopia, we root for these people to break free because we are these people hoping and fighting against things that are bigger than ourselves.
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How can we appreciate anything fully when overwhelmed with too much?
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I'm just a butterfly, a mourning cloak, sealed inside a cocoon with blnd eyes and stiky wings. And suddenly I wonder if the cocoons sometimes do not open, if the butterfly inside is ever simply not strong enough to break through.
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In the end you can't always choose what to keep. You can only choose how you let it go.
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Do you think you could let someone go if you thought it was best for them?
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Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?
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Being a teen is past for me. Worrying about the world and my place in it is not.
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Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.
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Love changes what is probable and makes unlikely things possible
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I want to reach out and grab his hand and hold it to me, right over my heart, right where it aches the most. I don't know if doing that would heal me or make my heart break entirely, but either way this constant hungry waiting would be over.
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We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.
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Red is the first color of spring. It's the real color of rebirth. Of beginning.
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Teens find out a lot from other teens.
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Some things are created to be together.
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And it is strange that absence can feel like presence.
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It's not knowing how to write that makes you interesting, it's what you write.
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Because I feel no anger toward my mother. Only loss, and loss is a feeling you can’t fight your way out of as easily.
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There is something extraordinary about the first time falling.
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