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: 41
Born: 1982
Born: November 8
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Westchester County
New York
Direction
General
Interceptions
Process
Doubling
Back
Adjusting
Thing
Deprived
Time
Borders
Like
Boundaries
Endless

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But the guilt goes even deeper than that. It, too, is dust: Layers and layers of it have accumulated. Because if it weren’t for me, Lena and Alex would never have been caught at all. I told on them. I was jealous. God forgive me, for I have sinned.
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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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So are you going to be my knight in shining armor or what?' Kent does a little bow. 'You know I can't resist a damsel in distress.
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It strikes me how strange people are. You can see them every day - you can think you know them - and then you fшnd out you hardly know them at all.
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I'm not ugly but I'm not pretty either. Everything is in-between. I have eyes that aren't green or brown, but a muddle. I'm not thin but I'm not fat either. the only thing you could definitely say about me is that: I'm short
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It's funny how you can know your friends so well, but you still end up playing the same games with them.
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This was what being cured was like: like being in a fishbowl, circling always inside the same glass.
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Mice? Fine. Flying mice? Not so fine.
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Everything ends, people move on, they don't look back. It's how they should be.
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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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I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken. It's hopeless. The past is nothing but a weight. It will build inside you like a stone.
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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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I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.
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I cry for everything I abandoned and because I, too, have been left behind -- by Alex, by my mom, by time that has cut through our worlds and separated us.
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Funny how certain things stay with you.
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Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.
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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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I remember Lena's expression when he knocked on the door and how Alex had looked at her when she finally let him into the storeroom. I remember exactly what he was wearing, too, and the mess of his hair, the sneakers with their blue-tinged laces. His right shoe was untied. He didn't notice. He didn't notice anything but Lena.
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But you can build a future out of anything. A scrap, a flicker. The desire to go forward, slowly, one foot at a time. You can build an airy city out of ruins.
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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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