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I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees.

Jodi Picoult

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Jodi Picoult
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: May 19
Author
Novelist
Writer
Nesconset
New York
Jodi Lynn Picoult
Dying
Hold
Hands
Treasured
Something
Butterfly
Would
Imagined
Like
Devotion
Despite
Degrees

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If his voice hasn't been the melody of my life, it's been the bass line, so subtle you don't notice it until it's missing.
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Because hate's just the flip side of love. Like heads and tails on a dime. If you don't know what it feels like to love someone, how would you know what hate is? One can't exist without the other.
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But it was like wearing a size five sneakers when your foot is a seven- you can get by for a few steps, and then you set down and pull off the shoes because it just plain much
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...because he believed that if you wanted to get rid of a hole, you filled it. He had not realized at the time that there were all sorts of filler that took up space, but had no substance. That made you feel just as empty.
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Jacob's room is the place entropy goes to die.
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There's a problem with wounded birds, Cassie, Connor said. Either they fly away from you one day, or else they never get better. They stay hurt no matter what you do.
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When she smiles, it feels like the first warm day of March-- after an eternity of snow, when you suddenly remember how summer feels on the backs of your bare calves & in the part of your hair.
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She felt a cage coming down around her too late she realized that he had her trapped by the heart. And like any unwilling animal that was well and truly caught, she could escape only by leaving a piece of herself behind.
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Mistakes are like the memories you hide in an attic: old love letters from relationships that tanked, photos of dead relatives, toys from a childhood you miss. Out of sight is out of mind, but somewhere deep inside you know they still exist. And you also know that you're avoiding them.
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i'm sure i'm worth a lot more dead than alive
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If she spoke, she would tell him the truth: she was not okay at all, but horribly empty, now that she knew what it was like to be filled.
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So much of the language of love was like that: you devoured someone with your eyes, you drank in the sight of him, you swallowed him whole. Love was substance, broken down and beating through your bloodstream.
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Joseph Obomsawin, the elder I lived with there, says that those who turn to animals do so because humans have let them down.
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At home I was raped by a guy i thought I loved' Trixie said, because thats what it was to her and always would be.
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Clearly God was in some kind of mood on my birthday.
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It turns out that sharing the past with someone is different from reliving it when you’re alone. It feels less like a wound, more like a poultice.
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do you fix a wheel that isn't broken, or do you wait until the cart collapses?
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Tutoring a four year old to get into an exclusive preschool made as much sense as hiring a swim coach for a guppy.
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I feel I'm able to get rid of any demons lurking in my psyche through my writing, which leaves me free to create all of this and to enjoy our family life, stepping away from all the fictional traumas and the dramas. If I write about family in crisis, then I won't have to live through it, I guess.
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Doctors put a wall up between themselves and their patients nurses broke it down.
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