Quote

I need a boy who thinks with his big head, not his little one. Since they do not exist, I have fashioned my own.

Jennifer Donnelly

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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Needs
Exist
Thinking
Boys
Head
Since
Bigs
Littles
Little
Fashioned
Need
Thinks

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I played a role. That is what actors do. But I played it too well. I went too far. And by the time I wanted to stop, to take a bow and leave the stage, it was too late.
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The guitar's still around me. I slip it off and put it down. I want to feel him. To feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his skin. To feel something other than sadness. Hold me, I tell him silently. Hold me here. To this place. This life. Make me want you. Want this. Want something. Please
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I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.
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Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insame. Hey, let's have a crepe.
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It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.
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Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either
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I've always admired your rather formidable will, your refusal to back away from difficulties, but sometimes strength isn't about perseverance. Sometimes it's about knowing when to quit.
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Writers are damned liars. Every single one of them.
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Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.
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The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.
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It's only the body that's gone. Only the body. There's a part that doesn't go in the ground, a part that stays inside you forever.
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We're not punished for our sins, lad. We're punished by them.
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She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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There was a basket at her feet. She reached into it and lifted out the head of a young woman, a marquise. She wore Bourbon white to her death, but wears the tricolor now - white cheeks, blue lips, red dripping from her neck. Long live the revolution.
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Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine.
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Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?
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Sometimes, when you catch someone unaware at just the right time and in just the right light, you can catch sight of what they will be.
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I just love historical fiction.
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For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.
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He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.
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