Quote

I need to finish this scarf/shawl/blanket thing so I can start something for Emma- a hat, maybe, or a sweater for her stuffed elephant.

Laurie Halse Anderson

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Laurie Halse Anderson
Age: 63
Born: 1961
Born: October 23
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Laurie Beth Halse
Needs
Elephant
Thing
Blanket
Shawl
Something
Elephants
Scarf
Hats
Scarves
Finish
Sweater
Maybe
Emma
Start
Stuffed
Need
Sweaters

More quotes by Laurie Halse Anderson

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And then a new screen, one I had never seen before, never even heard of popped up. It gave me a choice. I could become the new Lord of Darkness myself, or I could take a gamble and be reincarnated. I chose wisely.
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I stand in the center aisle of the auditorium, a wounded zebra in a National Geographic special, looking for someone, anyone to sit next to. A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher, hired to coach a blood sport.
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You have to know what you stand for, not just what you stand against.
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The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up.
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You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.
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I believe that you've created a metaphorical universe in which you can express your darkest fears. In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves, and sometimes we do such a good job, we lose track of reality.
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This is wonderful, wonderful! Be the bird. You are the bird. Sacrifice yourself to abandoned family values.
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Too much sun after a Syracuse winter does strange things to your head, makes you feel strong, even if you aren't.
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You were born with the seeds of your talent, the ability to observe the world around you and weave piece of it into a story. I believe that most -- if not all -- people are born with these seeds. What separates the writers from the non-writers is that the writers actually sit down and, you know... write.
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Having a friend made everything else suck less.
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Some adults would rather pretend that bad things dont exist than to talk about them.
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My English teacher has no face. She has uncombed stringy hair that droops on her shoulders. The hair is black from her part to her ears and then neon orange to the frizzy ends. I can't decide if she had pissed off her hairdresser or is morphing into a monarch butterfly. I call her Hairwoman.
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You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl, Lia-Lia, caught in between the worlds. You’re a ghost with a beat- ing heart. Soon you’ll cross the border and be with me. I’m so stoked. I miss you wicked.
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I would never be popular. I didn't want to be I liked being shy. I'd never be the smartest or the hottest or the happiest. By eighth grade you start to figure out your limits.
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i decapitated dandelions all morning, leaving carnage and death strewn into my path.
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This is where you can find your soul if you dare. Where you can touch that part of you that you've never dared look at before. Do not come here and ask me to show you how to draw a face. Ask me to help you find the wind.
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Oppressive bastards, think they own the place. I told them that karma's going to kick their asses.
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I shake my head. I pick up the rake and start making the dead-leaf pile neater. A blister pops and stains the rake handle like a tear. Dad nods and walks to the Jeep, keys jangling in his fingers. A mockingbird lands on a low oak branch and scolds me. I rake the leaves out of my throat. Me: Can you buy some seeds? Flower seeds?
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It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.
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If I run or breathe too deep, the cheap stitches holding me together will snap, and all the stickiness inside will pour out and burn through the concrete.
Laurie Halse Anderson