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Grief is like sinking, like being buried.

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
Sinking
Buried
Grief

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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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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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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Each step is more difficult than the last the heaviness fills me and turns my limbs to stone. You must hurt or be hurt.
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My heart shoots into my throat every time I think I see his loping walk, or catch sight of some floppy brown hair on a boy - but it's never him, and each time it isn't, my heart does a reverse trajectory down into the very pit of my stomach.
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Love: It will kill you and save you, both
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That’s what made it so frightening to the lawmakers: Love obeys no laws other than its own.
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But that's the problem with love - it acts on you, works through you, resists your attempts to control.
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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
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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But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic.
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In one of the tents, Julian is sleeping. And in another: Alex
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Stupid how the mind will try to distract itself.
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My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.
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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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That's all I want. Just you and me. Always.
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Everything ends, people move on, they don't look back. It's how they should be.
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But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosion of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?
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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.
Lauren Oliver
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Kent? I say, and my voice seems to have to rise from inside the fog, taking forever to get from my brain to my mouth. Yeah? Promise you'll stay here with me? I say. I promise, he whispers.
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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.
Lauren Oliver