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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: 59
Born: 1965
Born: November 25
Writer
New York City
New York
Flower
Pour
Color
Centuries
Century
Colors
Back
Plays
Play
Flowers
Years
Decades
Sky
Rain
Swap

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I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.
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Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.
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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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It’s never occurred to me that the stars are still up there shining even in the daytime when we can’t see them.
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Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.
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This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.
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She's a sun-kissed beach girl who goes gothgrungepunkhippierockeremocoremetalfreakfashionistabraingeekboycrazyhiphoprastagirl to keep it under wraps.
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But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?
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It's such a colossal effort not to be haunted by what's lost, but to be enchanted by what was.
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... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?
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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?
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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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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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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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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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The guy's life drunk, I think, makes Candide look like a sourpuss. Does he even know that death exists?
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Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?
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Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.
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I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
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People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.
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