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that's what it was like waking up in the crypts. no-longer-dead. but without her. like burning alive.

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
Like
Waking
Burning
Longer
Dead
Alive
Without

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There are no happy endings, only breaks in the regular action.
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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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And a face above mine, white and beautiful, eyes as large as the moon. You saved me. A hand on my cheek, cool and dry. Why did you save me? Words welling up on a tide: No, the opposite. Eyes the colour of a dawn sky, a crown of blond hair, so bright and white and blinding I could swear it was a halo.
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That's when you really lose people, you know.When the pain passes.
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But this isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen, or imagined, or even dreamed: This is like music or dancing but better than both.
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All this time, I thought we were growing apart because I was leaving Lena behind. But really it was the reverse. She was learning to lie. She was learning to love.
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I want to know. His words are a whisper, barely audible. I want to know with you.
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I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
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There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.
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Welcome to the free world. We give people the power to choose. They can even choose the wrong thing. Beautiful, isn't it?
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I’m with Julian,” I say at last. This, after all, is what I have chosen.
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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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This is what happens when you try to help people. You get screwed.
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His secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.
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Funny how certain things stay with you.
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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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Because I think you're right. You can make a difference. He told me experiences were kind of like fate, and fate usually came in the form of a test. He told me fate liked to be worshiped. It liked to see us fall on out knees before it offered to help us up... ♥
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The thing is, you don't get to know. It's not like you wake up with a bad feeling in your stomach. You don't see shadows where there shouldn't be any. You don't remember to tell your parents you love them or--in my case--remember to say good-bye to them at all.
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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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What glitters may not be gold and even wolves may smile and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.
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