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I'll find you, he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. I won't let you go again

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
Says
Eyes
Eye
Remember
Find
Watching

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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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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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When he speaks again, I can tell that he's smiling. So I guess we saved each other.
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Life isn't life if you just float through it.
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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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I hate both of my parents right now: for sitting quietly in our house, while out in the darkness my heart was beating away all of the seconds of my life, ticking them off one by one until my time was up for letting the thread between us stretch so far and so thin that the moment it was severed for good they didn't even feel it.
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That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.
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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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Even the greatest movements on earth, have their beginnings with something small.
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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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Not gray, exactly. Right before the sun rises there's a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color-not really gray but sort of, or sort of white, and I've always really liked it because it reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.
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Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.
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An eye for an eye. And the whole world goes blind, Coral puts in quietly.
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I’ve always hated being looked at.
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I’ve never really had a party before.” “Why did you have one now?” I say, just to keep him talking. He gives a half laugh. “I thought if I had a party, you would come.
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Raven jerks and stiffens. For a second, I think she is only surprised: Her mouth goes round, her eyes wide. Then she begins teetering backward, and I know that she is dead. Falling, falling, falling . . .
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There are no happy endings, only breaks in the regular action.
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It's as though the words are trapped, buried under past fears, past lives, like fossils compressed under layers of dirt.
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His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams.
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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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