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His secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.

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
Belongs
Name
Names
Secret
Else

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But that's the problem with love - it acts on you, works through you, resists your attempts to control.
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Sarah: Not bad. You look almost human. Lena: Thanks. Sarah: I said almost. Lena: Well, then, almost thanks.
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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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There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.
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Love. I love you. I’ll always love you, my love. You are the love of my life.
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Feelings aren't forever. Time waits for no one, but progress waits for man to enact it.
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The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.
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Huamns, uregulated, are cruel and capricious violet and selfish miserable and quarrelsome. It is only after their instincts and basic emotions have been controlled that they can be happy, generous, and good.
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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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Kent? I say, and my voice seems to have to rise from inside the fog, taking forever to get from my brain to my mouth. Yeah? Promise you'll stay here with me? I say. I promise, he whispers.
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This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.
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Please understand. Please forgive me. I prayed every day for you to be alive, until hope became painful. Don't hate me. I still love you.
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I just want to be normal, like everybody else. Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?
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The idea—the fact of it, the fact that he even noticed and thought about me for more than one second—is huge and overwhelming, makes my legs go tingly and my hands feel numb.
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It was as though the darkness was a sheet of raw cookie dough and someone had just taken a cookie cutter and made a child-sized shape out of it.
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Anger is useful only to a certain point. After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless.
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Maybe this is the secret to talking to boys--maybe you just have to be angry all the time.
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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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I've been so used to thinking of what the borders are keeping out that I haven't considered that they're also penning us in.
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