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When he plays all the flowers swap colors and years and decades and centuries of rain pour back into the sky

Jandy Nelson

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Jandy Nelson
Age: 58
Born: 1965
Born: November 25
Writer
New York City
New York
Years
Decades
Sky
Rain
Swap
Flower
Pour
Color
Centuries
Century
Colors
Back
Plays
Play
Flowers

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Meeting your soul mate is like walking into a house you've been in before - you will recognize the furniture, the pictures on the wall,the books on the shelves, the contents of drawers: You could find your way around in the dark if you had to.
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grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping
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Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?
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Sometimes you think you know things, know things very deeply, only to realize you don't know a damn thing.
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But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?
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For the first time in our lives, I’m somewhere she can’t find, and I don’t have the map to give her that leads to me.
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The Color Of Extraordinary.
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The guy's life drunk, I think, makes Candide look like a sourpuss. Does he even know that death exists?
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You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.
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We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.
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No hot guys should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.
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This is it--what all the hoopla is about, what Wuthering Heights is about--it all boils down to this feeling rushing through me in this moment with Joe as our mouths refuse to part. Who knew all this time I was one kiss away from being Cathy and Juliet and Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Chatterley!?
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Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.
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I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.
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Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.
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In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.
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Grief is forever. It doesn't go away it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.
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I can't shove the dark out of my way.
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That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.
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Remember how it was when we kissed? Armfuls and armfuls of light thrown right at us. A rope dropping down from the sky. How can the word love and the word life even fit in the mouth?
Jandy Nelson