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I've been so used to thinking of what the borders are keeping out that I haven't considered that they're also penning us in.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 41
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Borders
Keeping
Considered
Havens
Haven
Also
Used
Thinking

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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Everyone just wasting time because they have so much of it to waste, minutes slipping by on who's with who and did you hear.
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Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?
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I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.
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It was unfair that people could pretend to be one thing when they were really something else. That they would get you on their side and then do nothing but fail, and fail, and fail again. People should come with warnings, like cigarette packs: involvement would kill you over time.
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If you take, we will take back. Steal from us, and we will rob you blind. When you squeeze, we will hit. This is the way the world is made now.
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But hope got in, no matter how hard and fast I tried to stomp it out. Like these tiny fire ants we used to get in Portland. No matter how fast you liked them, there were always more, a steady stream of them, resistant, ever-multiplying. Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.
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That was what her parents did not understand—and had never understood—about stories. Liza told herself storied as though she was weaving and knotting an endless rope. Then, no matter how dark or terrible the pit she found herself in, she could pull herself out, inch by inch and hand over hand, on the long rope of stories.
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I remember Lena's expression when he knocked on the door and how Alex had looked at her when she finally let him into the storeroom. I remember exactly what he was wearing, too, and the mess of his hair, the sneakers with their blue-tinged laces. His right shoe was untied. He didn't notice. He didn't notice anything but Lena.
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Maybe next time, but probably not.
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There are some losses we never get over.
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You can't be happy unless you're unhappy sometimes.
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Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too. The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what.
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Raven jerks and stiffens. For a second, I think she is only surprised: Her mouth goes round, her eyes wide. Then she begins teetering backward, and I know that she is dead. Falling, falling, falling . . .
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Hate isn’t the most dangerous thing, he’d said. Indifference is.
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I said, I prefer the ocean when it's gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.
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Huamns, uregulated, are cruel and capricious violet and selfish miserable and quarrelsome. It is only after their instincts and basic emotions have been controlled that they can be happy, generous, and good.
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I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.
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It's surprisingly nice out here, peaceful and pretty-strange to be standing in the middle of a little garden while enclosed by the massive stone walls of the prison, like being at the exact center of a hurricane, and finding peace and silence in the middle of so much shrieking damage.
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They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.
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That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet.
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