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Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer

Jenny Han

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Jenny Han
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: September 3
Novelist
Writer
Richmond
Virginia
Time
Summer
Months
Winters
Week
August
Simply
June
Next
Magical
Happens
Weeks
Everything
Count
Good
Winter

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Firsts are best because they are beginnings
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But just because you bury something, that doesn't mean it stops existing. Those feelings, they'd been there all along. All that time. I had to face it.
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Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.
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Would you rather live one perfect day over and over or live your life with no perfect days but just decent ones?
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Do you think there's a difference? Between belonging with and belonging to?
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Love is scary: it changes it can go away. That's the part of the risk. I don't want to be scared anymore.
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When it's finals week and you've been studying for five hours straight, you need three things to get you through the nigh.The biggest Slurpee you can find,half cherry half Coke.Pajama pants, the kind that have been washed so many times they are tissue-paper thin. And finally,dace breaks.Lots of dance breaks.
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When a person you love dies, it doesn’t feel real. It’s like it’s happening to someone else. It’s someone else’s life. I’ve never been good with the abstract. What does it mean when someone is really truly gone?
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There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradualy waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There was no mistaking that it had been love.
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It’s hard to throw away history. It was like you were throwing away a part of yourself.
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Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.
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An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. a burn for a burn. a life for a life. that's how all this got started. and that's how it's going to end.
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When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life.
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I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn't expect was to feel so much grief.
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And no matter what you do or how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from dreaming.
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When boy likes you, you say no thank you. You don't kick him on the ground.
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How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.
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It's scary how easy promises were broken.
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If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.
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Sometimes questions can be more cruel than insults.
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