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I was looking at the photographs and I started thinking that there was a time when these weren't memories.

Stephen Chbosky

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Stephen Chbosky
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: January 25
Film Director
Film Producer
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Pittsburg
Pennsylvania
Photographs
Weren
Photograph
Memories
Started
Looking
Time
Thinking

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It's like he would take a photograph of Sam, and the photograph would be beautiful. And he would think that the reason the photograph was beautiful was because of how he took it. If I took it, I would know that the only reason it's beautiful is because of Sam.
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He was the boy that made mix tapes with themes and hand-colored covers until the day he hit my sister and stopped crying.
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Try to be a filter, not a sponge.
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I want to be an author/director and I'm writing my second book now and I want to make a movie of it, and I hope I get to do this for the rest of my life.
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It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder? What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things.
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Standing on the fringes of life... offers a unique perspective. But there comes a time to see what it looks like from the dance floor.
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I would die for you. But I won't live for you.
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On Friday night, I was reading my new book, but my brain got tired, so I decided to watch some television instead.
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He's a wallflower. You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.
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It’s much easier not to know things sometimes. And to have french fries with your mom be enough.
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As you see the opening get closer, you just can't get fast enough. And finally, just when you think you'll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you.
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Everyone else is either asleep or having sex. I’ve been watching cable television and eating jello.
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The gift from my Secret Santa wasn't anything special. That makes me sad. I bet you anything that Mary Elizabeth is my Secret Santa because only she would give me socks.
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Then, I turned around and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.
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Sometimes, I look outside, and I think that a lot of other people have seen this snow before. Just like I think that a lot of other people have read those books before. And listened to those songs. I wonder how they feel tonight.
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I was in the shopping mall because that's where I go lately. For the last couple of weeks, I've been going there every day, trying to figure out why people go there. It's kind of a personal project.
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I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.
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I don't even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.
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Sam has brown hair and very, very pretty green eyes. The kind of green that doesn't make a big deal about itself.
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Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad.
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