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Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge.

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
Love
Delirium
Edge
Edges
Bigger
Longer
Single
Word
Thing
Wispy

More quotes by Lauren Oliver

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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.
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And in that moment, the wordless thing passed between us, the thing that wasn't quite love but was so close I could believe in it sometimes.
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That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.
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Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too. The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what.
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I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.
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The second time my world exploded, it was also because of a word. A word that worked its way out of my throat and danced onto and out of my lips before I could think about it, or stop it. The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
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When he speaks again, I can tell that he's smiling. So I guess we saved each other.
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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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....love and desire enjoy a symbiotic relationship, meaning that one cannot exist without the other. Desire is an enemy to contentment desire is illness, a feverish brain. Who can be considered healthy who wants? The very word want suggests a lack, an impoverishment, and that is what desire is: an impoverishment of the brain, a flaw, a mistake.
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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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There's still always the possibility that I've gone totally, clinically cuckoo. But somehow I don't think so anymore. An article I once read said that crazy people don't worry about being crazy - that's the whole problem.
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But if you do believe, then you already know all about magic.
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That's the thing about faith. It works.
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only when it rains. and sometimes, too, when i remember.
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The last laugh, the last cup of coffee, the last sunset, the last time you jump through a sprinkler, or eat an ice-cream cone, or stick your tongue out to catch a snowflake. You just don't know.
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I'll find you, he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. I won't let you go again
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That was what her parents did not understand—and had never understood—about stories. Liza told herself storied as though she was weaving and knotting an endless rope. Then, no matter how dark or terrible the pit she found herself in, she could pull herself out, inch by inch and hand over hand, on the long rope of stories.
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His secret name, which belongs to me, and to him, and to no one else.
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That's the beauty of the cure. No one mentions those lost, hot days in the field, when Thomas kissed Rachel's tears away and invented worlds just so he could promise them to her, when she tore the skin off her own arm at the thought of living without him.
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People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed.
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