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That's when you really lose people, you know.When the pain passes.
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
Loses
Pain
Really
People
Passes
Lose
More quotes by Lauren Oliver
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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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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Requiem has been controversial because people dont feel I gave it closure.
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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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It's too late. I've seen things...I've lost things you can't understand.
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It's funny how you can know your friends so well, but you still end up playing the same games with them.
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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.
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The first time I saw you, at the Governor, I handn't been to watch the birds at the border in years. But that's what you reminded me of. You were jumping up, and you were yelling something, and your hair was coming loose from your ponytail, and you were so fast... He shakes his head. Just a flash, and then you were gone, Exactly like a bird.
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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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Music, I think, he makes me feel like music
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That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet.
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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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I just want to be normal, like everybody else. Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?
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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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But hope got in, no matter how hard and fast I tried to stomp it out. Like these tiny fire ants we used to get in Portland. No matter how fast you liked them, there were always more, a steady stream of them, resistant, ever-multiplying. Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.
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It's not my fault I can't be like you, okay? I don't get up in the morning thinking the world is one big, shiny, happy place, okay? That's just not how I work. I don't think I can be fixed.
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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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I am now officially married to Fred Hargrove. Nothing will ever be the same.
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My first kiss. A new kind of kiss, like the new kind of music still playing, softly, in the distance - wild and arrhythmic, desperate. Passionate.
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I want to be healed and whole and perfect again, like a misshapen slab of iron that comes out of the fire glowing, glittering, razor-sharp.
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