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Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.
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
Lying
Rather
Sliver
Live
Smothered
Years
Tiniest
Love
Infected
Delirium
Hundred
Second
More quotes by Lauren Oliver
The whole point of growing up is learning to stay on the laughing side.
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I don't know how i stay on my feet, why i dont just shatter into dust right there, why my heart keeps beating when i want it so badly to stop
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i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.
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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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Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.
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Is this freedom? Is it happiness? I don't know. I don't care anymore. It is different--it is being alive.
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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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And in that moment, the wordless thing passed between us, the thing that wasn't quite love but was so close I could believe in it sometimes.
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In one of the tents, Julian is sleeping. And in another: Alex
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Quiet through the grave go I or else beneath the graves I lie
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I still wanted to know why. As though somebody was going to answer that for me, as though any answer would be satisfying.
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Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.
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anything, anything is possible, if you can just see the sky.
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This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.
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The salt blowing off the sea makes the air feel textured and heavy.
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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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Not gray, exactly. Right before the sun rises there's a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color-not really gray but sort of, or sort of white, and I've always really liked it because it reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.
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Then I think of the dark, and the lights, and the roaring, and Juliet, and before I can think of anything else, I fight the final few steps to the door and step out into the cold, where the rain is still coming down like shards of moonlight, or like steel.
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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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Things change after you die, though, I guess because dying is the loneliest thing you can do.
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