Quote

But maybe happiness isn't in the choosing. Maybe it's in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

Lauren Oliver

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Lauren Oliver
Age: 42
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Along
Fiction
Maybe
Requiem
Happiness
Choosing
Intended
Pretending
Ended
Wherever

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

Image
It's the way he says my name: like music.
Lauren Oliver
Image
For the first time in a long time, I actually look at her. I've always thought Lena was pretty, but now it occurs to me that at some point - last summer? last year? - she became beautiful.
Lauren Oliver
Image
Everything ends, people move on, they don't look back. It's how they should be.
Lauren Oliver
Image
And for a moment―for a split second―everything else falls away, the whole pattern and order of my life, and a huge joy crests in my chest. I am no one, and I owe nothing to anybody, and my life is my own.
Lauren Oliver
Image
But from the beginning, I knew that in a world where destiny was dead, I was destined, forever, to love him. Even though he didn't - though he couldn't - ever love me back.
Lauren Oliver
Image
This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.
Lauren Oliver
Image
The house, the pond, the tree-it was all both overwhelmingly familiar and different from what she remembered-smaller and shabbier, somehow. It was like waking up to find that your reflection in the mirror had aged overnight, or had sprouted a new mole: You were forced to admit that things changed, whether you gave them permission to or not.
Lauren Oliver
Image
Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.
Lauren Oliver
Image
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.
Lauren Oliver
Image
There's a place for everything and everyone, you know. That is the mistake they make above. They think that only certain people have a place. Only certain kinds of people belong. The rest is waste. But even waste must have a place. Otherwise it will clog and clot, and rot and fester.
Lauren Oliver
Image
Nothing exists but him.
Lauren Oliver
Image
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.
Lauren Oliver
Image
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.
Lauren Oliver
Image
That's all I want. Just you and me. Always.
Lauren Oliver
Image
There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.
Lauren Oliver
Image
My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.
Lauren Oliver
Image
The last laugh, the last cup of coffee, the last sunset, the last time you jump through a sprinkler, or eat an ice-cream cone, or stick your tongue out to catch a snowflake. You just don't know.
Lauren Oliver
Image
This is the past: It drifts, it gathers. If you are not careful, it will bury you.
Lauren Oliver
Image
I don't know whether these feelings - this thing growing inside of me - is something horrible and sick or the best thing that's ever happened to me. Either way, I can't stop it. I've lost control. And the truly sick thing is that despite everything, I'm glad.
Lauren Oliver
Image
What glitters may not be gold and even wolves may smile and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.
Lauren Oliver