Quote

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.

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
Waiting
Drips
Show
Droplets
Shows
Tipped
Someone
Hovering
Way
Drops
People
Pour
Identical
Path

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This is pretty much the answer to every problem you encounter in suburbia: plant a tree, and hope you don't see anyone's privates.
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I still wanted to know why. As though somebody was going to answer that for me, as though any answer would be satisfying.
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That's when you realize that most of it-life, the relentless mechanism of existing-isn't about you. It doesn't include you at all. It will thrust onward even after you've jumped the edge. Even after you're dead.
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Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.
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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 amazing how close I have been, all this time, to my old life. And yet the distance that divides me from it is vast.
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If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.
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Live free or die.
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Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.
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I guess there are some things you never get used to.
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In a world without love, this is what people are to each other: values, benefits, and liabilities, numbers and data. We weigh, we quantify, we measure, and the soul is ground to dust.
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I close my eyes. An image flashes—emerging from the van with Julian after our escape from New York City believing, in that moment, that we had escaped the worst, that life would begin again for us. Instead life has only grown harder.
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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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That's what time does: We stand stubbornly like rocks while it flows all around us, believing that we are immutable - and all the time we're being carved, and shaped, and whittled away.
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And how she looked at me like I could save her from everything bad in he world. This was my secret: she was the one who saved me
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I have had to give up so much, so many selves and lives already. I have grown up and out of the rubble of my old lives, of things and people I have cared for.
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They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.
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There is nothing else for people to do. They do not think. They feel no passion, no hatred, no sadness they feel nothing but fear, and a desire to control. So they watch, and poke, and pry.
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