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I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

Jandy Nelson

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Jandy Nelson
Age: 58
Born: 1965
Born: November 25
Writer
New York City
New York
Clothes
Wonder
Bereaved
Even
Unmistakable
People
Mourning
Wardrobe
Provides
Bother
Grief

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And why do English people sound smarter than the rest of us? Like they should be awarded the Nobel Prize for a simple greeting?
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But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.
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She's a sun-kissed beach girl who goes gothgrungepunkhippierockeremocoremetalfreakfashionistabraingeekboycrazyhiphoprastagirl to keep it under wraps.
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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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You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.
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Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.
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... every available inch of his face busts into a smile - whoa. Has he blown into our school on a gust of wind from another world? The guy looks unabashedly jack-o'-lantern happy, which couldn't be more foreign to the sullen demeanor most of us strove to perfect.
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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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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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Years ago, I was crashed in gram’s garden and Big asked me what I was doing. I told him I was looking up at the sky. He said, “That’s a misconception, Lennie, the sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.
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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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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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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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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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The. World. Is. Not. A. Safe. Place.
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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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Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.
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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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When he plays all the flowers swap colors and years and decades and centuries of rain pour back into the sky
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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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