Quote

Direction, like time, is a general thing, the deprived of boundaries and borders. It is an endless process interception and reinterception, doubling back and adjusting.

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
Process
Doubling
Back
Adjusting
Thing
Deprived
Time
Borders
Like
Boundaries
Endless
Direction
General
Interceptions

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I said, I prefer the ocean when it's gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.
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Amazing how hope lives. Without air or water, with hardly anything at all to nurture it.
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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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I'm overwhelmed with sadness for everything that was lost, and filled with anger toward the people who took it away. My people-or at least, my old people. I don't know who I am anymore, or where I belong. That's not totally true...I know I belong with Alex.
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Everyone just wasting time because they have so much of it to waste, minutes slipping by on who's with who and did you hear.
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It's a miracle I was able to get out of the house today. It's a miracle I'm even wearing pants, a double miracle I remembered to wear shoes.
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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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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.
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Funny how certain things stay with you.
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This is the strange way of the world, that people who simply want to love are instead forced to become warriors.
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For a second I feel a rush of sadness: for the horizons that vanish behind us, for the people we leave behind, the tiny-doll selves that get stored away and ultimately buried.
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The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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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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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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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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