Quote

Here's something else, something important: Love is not transactional. It is not a bank account, you don't always get what you put in. Sometimes you put in so much and get very little return on your investment, at least that you can see right away.

Jenny Han

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Jenny Han
Age: 44
Born: 1980
Born: September 3
Novelist
Writer
Richmond
Virginia
Important
Return
Much
Least
Something
Away
Always
Else
Transactional
Love
Littles
Bank
Little
Account
Right
Investment
Sometimes
Accounts

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In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.
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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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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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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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You can't put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren't.
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Best friends are important. They're the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have.
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He didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.
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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 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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Do you think there's a difference? Between belonging with and belonging to?
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You never know the last time you’ll see a place. A person.
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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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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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Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.
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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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When boy likes you, you say no thank you. You don't kick him on the ground.
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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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For me there was-is-nothing better than walking on the beach late at night. It feels like you could walk forever, like the whole night is yours and so is the ocean. When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.
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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 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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