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We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven't chosen at all.

Lauren Oliver

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Lauren Oliver
Age: 41
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Forward
Requiem
Step
Squeezed
Choice
Pushed
Steps
Chosen
Choices
Suddenly
Another
Road
Find
Havens
Always
Haven

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This is what I want. This is the only thing I've ever wanted. Everything else—every single second of every single day that has come before this very moment, this kiss—has meant nothing.
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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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It's like high school holds two different worlds, revolving around each other an never touching the haves and the have-nots. I guess it's a good thing. High school is supposed to prepare you for the real world, after all.
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This is the past: It drifts, it gathers. If you are not careful, it will bury you.
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That’s just the kind of thing that kids do to each other. It’s no big deal. There’s always going to be a person laughing and somebody getting laughed at. It happens every day, in every school, in every town in America—probably in the world, for all I know. The whole point of growing up is learning to stay on the laughing side.
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This was what true fear was--that you could never know other people, not completely. That you were always just guessing blind.
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I am now officially married to Fred Hargrove. Nothing will ever be the same.
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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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It's too late. I've seen things...I've lost things you can't understand.
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His secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.
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Popularity's a weird thing. You can't really define it, and it's not cool to talk about, but you know it when you see it. Like a lazy eye, or porn.
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It won't matter if nobody ever thinks I'm pretty (although sometimes I wish, just for a second, that somebody would)
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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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People are like houses. They could open their doors. You could walk through their rooms and touch the objects hidden in their corners. But something--the structure, the wiring, the invisible mechanism that kept the whole thing standing--remai ned invisible, suggested only by the fact of its existing at all.
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The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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And it's the funniest thing: as soon as I see it, the whistling in my ears stops and the feeling of terror drains away, and I realize this whole time I haven't been falling at all. I've been floating.
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Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.
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Everything looks beautiful. The Book of Shhh says that deliria alters your perception, disables your ability to reason clearly, impairs you from making sound judgments. But it does not tell you this: that love will turn the whole world into something greater than itself.
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We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.
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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.
Lauren Oliver