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Not even Carol knows firsthand how it feels to be hurt in such a way by someone who's supposed to protect you

Ellen Hopkins

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Ellen Hopkins
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: March 26
Novelist
Writer
Long Beach
California
Ellen Louise Hopkins
Feels
Even
Carol
Way
Firsthand
Carols
Supposed
Protect
Hurt
Someone

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Sorry. But I don't need some money-grubbing preacher defining my relationship with God.
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I wanted to meet the monster. Why go down if you can go up?
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I write books for young adults because I truly connect with them on some very deep level. They are our hope, our future, and inspiring them to be the best they can be is very important to me.
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I know I can't stay here forever
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Perfect? How can you define a word without concrete meaning?
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The Screaming flashed me back to a time when mom and dad were still together if you could call miles apart together.
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There will never be color blindness in a culture of fear.
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God i've missed you. I can't wait to give you your present. He kisses me hotter this time, and beneath me, through his denim and mine. I can feel the promise of his Christmas gift soon to come.
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I haven't cried since Mom died. I mean, after something like that, what's left to cry about, right? But I let myself cry now. Loss is loss. Doesn't take death to create it. (266)
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You were a summer gift, one I'll always treasure. You were a dream I never wanted to wake up from. You opened my eyes to things I'll never really see. You're the best thing that will ever happen to me.
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What's the point of being a hero when everyone thinks you're a villain?
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Grown up? Me? I suppose I have. Killing things, and almost killing myself, must have changed me some, after all.
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Ghosts don't scare me. Flesh and blood people do.
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Cleansed, chlorinated to the point of chemical peel, sore muscles relieved, I felt almost human again. Tiptoe to my room, up a darkened hall, past closed doors, I wondered if I'd ever feel completely human again.
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The wind kicks in stronger, branches clatter. Or maybe skeletons. Bones of abandonment. Ghosts that will never be.
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Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they're pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet.
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She's incredible, not that she's perfect. But you once said imperfections create character.
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Happiness is a bull's-eye, awaiting arrows of pain.
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Many readers share their stories with me and if one speaks to me (or if the same theme keeps coming at me), I will research it and decide if it would make a good book. But, straight down to it, people inspire me.
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Your hurt swallows ine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine. We tangle together.
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