Quote

I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty - flowers, seashells, dragonflies - have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession.

Ellen Hopkins

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Ellen Hopkins
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: March 26
Novelist
Writer
Long Beach
California
Ellen Louise Hopkins
Things
Wonder
Beneath
Love
Small
Crush
Sprite
Beauty
Capture
Dragonflies
Hands
Flowers
Collapsed
Need
Mets
Demise
Many
Weight
Trembling
Needs
Except
Confession
Much
Flower
Fragile

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I wonder how long it would take him to realize I'm right as sin - it's the rest of the world that's wrong. I'm not even sure how I qualify for admission to Aspen Springs. Does wanting to die equal losing your mind?
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You can have your pick of pretty women. Why me? You're like the ocean, Pattyn. Pretty enough on the surface, but dive down into your depths, you'll find beauty most people never see. Lucky me. I fell in, headfirst.
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Sometimes the little things in life mean the most.
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Love is Chocolate The unprocessed kind. Dark. Bitter. But always with the promise of sweet perfection. All it takes is sugar- that certain someone's kiss, flavored with possibility. If Dani has taught me anything, it's that life is brimming with possibilities. Every single day brings choices.
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I'd like to cry now. Don't know how.
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When you love someone, you don't want to hurt them, even if they deserve to be hurt. When you love someone, you want to hurt them, even when they don't deserve to be hurt.
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I nod, because I do understand. I'm just not sure how to go about divorcing myself from the evil I've already accepted.
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They think old people are lame. But they're not. They're awesome, & I know exactly why I think so. It's because they've lived entire lifetimes. Loved. Laughed. Surrendered. Stumbled. Weathered, beaten, still they don't crumble, not even as they inch toward death.
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empty and closed, hovering in some frozen netherworld neither sun nor rain could thaw.
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She's incredible, not that she's perfect. But you once said imperfections create character.
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How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?
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Would I drown saving him?
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And now life has become the future. Every moment of your life is lived for the future-you go to high school so you can go to college so you can get a good job so you can get nice house.
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And almost instantly, Daddy made everything seem just fine. Even when it wasn't.
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Was the fun in the fall?
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Too much to take in, too much to purge. Why must every memory, once sweet, dead end in such ugliness?
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It's probably weird to think about an addiction like it's a sentient being, but that's how it feels. Like it's something living inside you. Something you can't get rid of because killing it means killing you.
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Yeah, I know getting high isn't so smart. Ask me if I care.
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Sometimes I'm not so sure just who I am either.
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Real love shouldn't be disposable.
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