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I'm used to a feeling of doubleness, of thinking one thing and having to do another, a constant tug-of-war.

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
Feeling
War
Feelings
Another
Used
Thing
Thinking
Constant

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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A string of bright white buildinh, glistening like teeth over the slurping mouth of the ocean.
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Nobody ever said life was fair.
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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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Poetry isn't like any writing I've ever heard before. I don't understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.
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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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And when we are with Alex, I might as well not be there. They speak in a language of whispers and giggles and secrets their words are like a fairy-tale tangle of thorns, which place a wall between us.
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They didn’t get me, I should have said. They saved me.
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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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Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge.
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I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.
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The salt blowing off the sea makes the air feel textured and heavy.
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Fear. Blame. Don't forget. Mom. I love you. -Lauren Oliver, Delerium
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He's stuck with me and I'm stuck with him. We're stuck. That's what growing up is all about, I guess.
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Things change after you die, though, I guess because dying is the loneliest thing you can do.
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The second time my world exploded, it was also because of a word. A word that worked its way out of my throat and danced onto and out of my lips before I could think about it, or stop it. The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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It was all very strange, Mr. Gray thought, as he wiped the coffee canister clean with a sponge. Very, very mysterious. You were born you lived a whole life and at the end, you wound up in a coffee canister. Ah, well, he said out loud quietly. That's just the way things are. Life's a funny business. Death, he supposed, was the punch line.
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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.
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Lindsay calls them the Pugs: pretty from far away, ugly up close.
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They’d already taken her from me once. I didn’t want to lose her again.
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Nothing exists but him.
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