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Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Never
Like
Butter
Oxygen
Thoughts
Drink
Says
Days
Nothing

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Dystopian, by definition, promises a darker story.
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Words like 'unputdownable' and 'irresistible' are simply not enough for Cat Winters's In the Shadow of Blackbirds. Days after finishing this story, it remains the first thought I have in the morning, and the thing that haunts me until I sleep.
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A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.
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What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.
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Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.
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There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.
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When I was 11 or 12, I was really bored with everything on my summer reading list. It was all happy, middle-grade kinds of books. I was getting frustrated, because I liked to read. My mother went to the library and got me a copy of 'The Other Side of Midnight' by Sidney Sheldon. It was my first adult book.
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It's never right to give up on someone.
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The thing about hope is that it doesn't go away even when it serves no purpose.
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Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other. Pg 225
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I wish I had a memory of that first violent shove, the shock of cold air, the sting of oxygen into new lungs. Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
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Good night, sweetheart, he says. Good bye, sweetheart, I say. And it's so casual, so innocent that he doesn't suspect a thing.
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Set fire to the broken pieces start anew.
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It doesn't matter how much his mother loves him love is not enough to keep any of us alive.
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Real’ is a dirty word in this place.
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To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.
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There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.
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I start trying to stay unconscious. The problem with this is that no amount of willpower can change the reality.
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Momentum,' She repeats. 'You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have to run.
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He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.
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