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Rainstorms are incredible: falling shards of glass, the air full of diamonds.

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
Diamond
Glass
Incredible
Falling
Glasses
Air
Rainstorms
Full
Shards
Fall
Diamonds

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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.
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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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When he speaks again, I can tell that he's smiling. So I guess we saved each other.
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It's like a razor blade edging its way through my organs, shredding me, all I can think is: It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.
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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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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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anything, anything is possible, if you can just see the sky.
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Of all the miracles Po had seen in the time and space of its death, Po thought this--the absorption of another, the carrying of it--was the most bewildering and remarkable of all. Whenever Bundle separated again, Po was left with an ache of sadness that reminded the ghost of the body it had left behind.
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