Quote

...and once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.

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
Parents
Mouths
Ceiling
Hana
Started
Seemed
Ceilings
Giggling
Parent
Sun
Liquor
Blackberry
Break
Sick
Mist
Blackberries
House
Taste
Drank
Stole
Didn
Sweet
Spinning
Overhead
Way
Thoughts
Mouth
Cabinet
Like
Laughing
Apart
Cabinets

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I wonder if this is how people always get close: They heal each other's wounds they repair the broken skin.
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I'm not scared, if that's what you're wondering. The moment of death is full of sound and warmth and light shooting away, arcing up and up and up, and if singing were a feeling it would be this, this light, this lifting, like laughing... The rest you have to find out for yourself.
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Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.
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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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And we did, and it wasn’t bad. We ate the whole stupid can, we were so hungry. And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.” I’m gasping, feeling as though I am about to drown I’m reaching for him blindly, grabbing at his collar.
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Hate isn’t the most dangerous thing, he’d said. Indifference is.
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I will make a pact with you: I will do it if you will do it, always and forever. Take down the walls.
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His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams.
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only when it rains. and sometimes, too, when i remember.
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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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The first one, we’ll name Blue.
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I'm so tired after dinner I fall asleep with my clothes on, almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and so I forget to ask God, in my prayers, to keep me from waking up.
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Maybe this is the secret to talking to boys--maybe you just have to be angry all the time.
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Droplets, droplets: we are all identical drips and drops of people, hovering, waiting to be tipped, waiting for someone to show us the way, to pour us down a path.
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That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.
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It was all very strange, Mr. Gray thought, as he wiped the coffee canister clean with a sponge. Very, very mysterious. You were born you lived a whole life and at the end, you wound up in a coffee canister. Ah, well, he said out loud quietly. That's just the way things are. Life's a funny business. Death, he supposed, was the punch line.
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This is what happens when you try to help people. You get screwed.
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There's still always the possibility that I've gone totally, clinically cuckoo. But somehow I don't think so anymore. An article I once read said that crazy people don't worry about being crazy - that's the whole problem.
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