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i feel like a curtain has dropped away and i'm seeing people for who they really are, different, and sharp, and unknowable.

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
Like
Dropped
People
Sharp
Seeing
Away
Feel
Feels
Unknowable
Different
Curtain
Really
Curtains

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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It's like there's a filter set up in my brain, except instead of making things better, it twists everything around so what comes out of my mouth is totally wrong, totally different from what I was thinking.
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I didn't realize then what a privilege that was: to be bored with your best friend to have time to waste.
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The house, the pond, the tree-it was all both overwhelmingly familiar and different from what she remembered-smaller and shabbier, somehow. It was like waking up to find that your reflection in the mirror had aged overnight, or had sprouted a new mole: You were forced to admit that things changed, whether you gave them permission to or not.
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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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I know what the problem is, of course. The disorientation, the distraction, the difficulty focusing - all classic Phase One signs of deliria. But I don't care. If pneumonia felt this good I'd stand out in the snow in the winter with bare feet and no coat, or march into the hospital and kiss pneumonia patients
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Promise me we'll stay together, okay? His eyes are once again the clear blue of a perfectly transparent pool. They are eyes to swim in, to float in, forever. You and me. I promise. I say. behind us the door creaks open, and I turn around, expecting Raven, just as a voice cuts through the air: Don't believe her.
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I guess there are some things you never get used to.
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Quiet through the grave go I or else beneath the graves I lie
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It was a bird. A bird struggling through stickiness: a bird coated in paint, floundering in its nest, splashing color everywhere. Red. Red. Red. Dozens of them: black feathers coated thickly with crimson-colored paint, fluttering among the branches. Red means run.
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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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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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Sometimes I feel like she deserves a best friend who is just a little more special.
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They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.
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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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The first one, we’ll name Blue.
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Sometimes I'm afraid to go to sleep because of what I'm leaving behind.
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That’s just the kind of thing that kids do to each other. It’s no big deal. There’s always going to be a person laughing and somebody getting laughed at. It happens every day, in every school, in every town in America—probably in the world, for all I know. The whole point of growing up is learning to stay on the laughing side.
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Once Mo had closed the gates, he returned to his little stone hut, and his half-eaten sandwich of butter and canned sardines, and his mug of thick hot chocolate, which every night he poured carefully into a thermos labeled COFFEE.
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Don't worry about what you're writing or whether it's good or even whether it makes sense.
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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.
Lauren Oliver