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Each step is more difficult than the last the heaviness fills me and turns my limbs to stone. You must hurt or be hurt.
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
Must
Stones
Step
Steps
Hurt
Turns
Heaviness
Lasts
Fills
Last
Limbs
Difficult
Stone
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Sometimes I feel like she deserves a best friend who is just a little more special.
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That’s what made it so frightening to the lawmakers: Love obeys no laws other than its own.
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I will make a pact with you: I will do it if you will do it, always and forever. Take down the walls.
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If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.
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He was still in love with you, anyway.
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Hate isn’t the most dangerous thing, he’d said. Indifference is.
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anything, anything is possible, if you can just see the sky.
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The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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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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Be honest: Are you surprised that I didn't realize sooner? Are you surprised that it took me so long to even /think/ the word -- death? Dying? Dead? Do you think I was being stupid? Naive? Try not to judge. Remember that we're the same, you and me. I thought I would live forever too.
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Of all the miracles Po had seen in the time and space of its death, Po thought this--the absorption of another, the carrying of it--was the most bewildering and remarkable of all. Whenever Bundle separated again, Po was left with an ache of sadness that reminded the ghost of the body it had left behind.
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I can admit, now, that I must have loved Lena. Not in an Unnatural way, but my feelings for her must have been a kind of sickness. How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?
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Live free or die. Four words. Thirteen letters. Ridges, bumps, swirls under my fingertips. Another story. We cling tightly to it, and our belief turns it to truth.
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Grief is like sinking, like being buried.
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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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Promise me we'll stay together, okay? His eyes are once again the clear blue of a perfectly transparent pool. They are eyes to swim in, to float in, forever. You and me. I promise. I say. behind us the door creaks open, and I turn around, expecting Raven, just as a voice cuts through the air: Don't believe her.
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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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I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.
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The devil stole into the Garden of Eden. He carried with him the disease - amor deliria nervosa - in the form of a seed. It grew and flowered into a magnificent apple tree, which bore apples as bright as blood. -From Genesis: A Complete History of the World and the Known Universe, by Steven Horace, PhD, Harvard University
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Love: It will kill you and save you, both
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