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A string of bright white buildinh, glistening like teeth over the slurping mouth of the ocean.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 42
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Strings
Bright
Teeth
Mouth
Mouths
Ocean
White
Glistening
Like
String

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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Please understand. Please forgive me. I prayed every day for you to be alive, until hope became painful. Don't hate me. I still love you.
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I'm starved for different light, a different sun,different sky.
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We should be protected from the people who will leave us in the end, from all the people who will disappear or forget us.
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They’d already taken her from me once. I didn’t want to lose her again.
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And then, just at that moment, when I'm no longer sure if I'm dreaming or awake or walking some valley in between where everything you wish for comes true, I feel the flutter of his lips on mine.
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Maybe before you die, it's your ghosts you see.
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I get that rush that comes when you know you're doing something wrong and are getting away with it, like stealing from the school cafeteria of getting tipsy at a family holiday without anyone knowing it.
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Hate isn’t the most dangerous thing, he’d said. Indifference is.
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For the first time in my life I actually feel sorry for Carol. I'm only seventeen years old, and I already know something she doesn't know: I know that life isn't life if you just float through it. I know that the whole point- the only point- is to find things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.
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I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.
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People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed.
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It's a miracle I was able to get out of the house today. It's a miracle I'm even wearing pants, a double miracle I remembered to wear shoes.
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But from the beginning, I knew that in a world where destiny was dead, I was destined, forever, to love him. Even though he didn't - though he couldn't - ever love me back.
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But this isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen, or imagined, or even dreamed: This is like music or dancing but better than both.
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And when we are with Alex, I might as well not be there. They speak in a language of whispers and giggles and secrets their words are like a fairy-tale tangle of thorns, which place a wall between us.
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The second time my world exploded, it was also because of a word. A word that worked its way out of my throat and danced onto and out of my lips before I could think about it, or stop it. The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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It won't matter if nobody ever thinks I'm pretty (although sometimes I wish, just for a second, that somebody would)
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He's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. We're stuck. That's what growing up is all about, I guess.
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Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.
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No guest rooms.” I shake my head resolutely. “I want to be in a room room. A lived-in room.
Lauren Oliver