Lauren Oliver Quotes - Page 8

That’s what you do for family. Anything.

Stupid how the mind will try to distract itself.

It is war now, and armies need symbols.

I love you. They can't take it away.

My parents were pretty liberal, but they were still parents. I definitely had my teenage rebellion.

Maybe all of these different possibilities exist at the same time, like each moment we live has a thousand other moments layered underneath it that look different.

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.

Most of us won't see one another after graduation, and even if we do it will be different. We'll be different. We'll be adults--cured, tagged and labeled and paired and identified and placed neatly on our life path, perfectly round marbles set to roll down even, well-defined slopes.

The tunnels may be long, and twisted, and dark; but you are supposed to go through them.

They couldn’t have known that even this was a lie—that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven’t chosen at all. But maybe happiness isn’t in the choosing. Maybe it’s in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

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?

Amor deliria nervosa isn't a disease of love. It's a disease of selfishness.

I'll find you," he says, watching me with the eyes I remember. "I won't let you go again

Quiet through the grave go I; or else beneath the graves I lie

I don't understand how everything changes, how the layers of your life get buried. Impossible. At some point, at some time, we must all explode.

We're killers, all of us: We kill our lives, our past selves, the things that mattered. We bury them under slogans and excuses.

I cry for everything I abandoned and because I, too, have been left behind -- by Alex, by my mom, by time that has cut through our worlds and separated us.

It's too late. I've seen things...I've lost things you can't understand.

Each step is more difficult than the last; the heaviness fills me and turns my limbs to stone. You must hurt or be hurt.

Maybe, the hope said. Maybe.

And even if she isn’t—even if by some miracle, she survived the escape and has been squeezing out a living in the Wilds—she would never join forces with the resisters. She would never be violent or vengeful. Not Lena, who used to practically faint when she pricked a finger, who couldn’t even lie to a teacher about being late. She wouldn’t have the stomach for it.

He was still in love with you, anyway.

Raven jerks and stiffens. For a second, I think she is only surprised: Her mouth goes round, her eyes wide. Then she begins teetering backward, and I know that she is dead. Falling, falling, falling . . .

I don't know how i stay on my feet, why i don;t just shatter into dust right there, why my heart keeps beating when i want it so badly to stop

This is the past: It drifts, it gathers. If you are not careful, it will bury you.