Lauren Oliver Quotes

But how could anyone who's ever seen a summer - big explosion of green and skies lit up electric with splashy sunsets, a riot of flowers and wind that smells like honey - pick the snow?

Live free or die.

It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.

How can someone have the power to shatter you to dust--and also to make you feel so whole?

Dystopian novels help people process their fears about what the future might look like; further, they usually show that there is always hope, even in the bleakest future.

Fridays are the hardest in some ways: you’re so close to freedom.

And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.

i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.

I said, I prefer the ocean when it's gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.

But you can build a future out of anything. A scrap, a flicker. The desire to go forward, slowly, one foot at a time. You can build an airy city out of ruins.

Mama, Mama, put me to bed I won’t make it home, I’m already half-dead I met an Invalid, and fell for his art He showed me his smile, and went straight for my heart.

Hope keeps you alive.

I'd rather die my way than live yours.

A good friend keeps your secrets for you. A best friend helps you keep your own secrets.

Black is too morbid; red will set them on edge; pink is too juvenile; orange is freakish

Please understand. Please forgive me. I prayed every day for you to be alive, until hope became painful. Don't hate me. I still love you.

Hearts are fragile things. That's why you have to be so careful.

Droplets, droplets: we are all identical drips and drops of people, hovering, waiting to be tipped, waiting for someone to show us the way, to pour us down a path.

You have to go forward: It's the only way. You have to go forward no matter what happens. This is the universal law.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and runing its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.

The memories seem like snapshots from someone else’s life.

I guess that's what saying good-bye is always like--like jumping off an edge. The worst part is making the choice to do it. Once you're in the air, there's nothing you can do but let go.

The sparrows jumped before they knew how to fly, and they learned to fly only because they had jumped.

people themselves are full of tunnels: winding, dark spaces and caverns; impossible to know all the places inside of them. Impossible even to imagine.

I love you. Remember. And someday, I will find you again.

An eye for an eye." "And the whole world goes blind," Coral puts in quietly.

I know that the whole point—the only point—is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.

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

I'd rather die on my own terms than live on theirs. I'd rather die loving Alex than live without him.

The past is nothing but a weight. It will build inside of you like a stone.

Now I'd rather be infected with love for the tiniest sliver of a second than live a hundred years smothered by a lie.

It was as though the darkness was a sheet of raw cookie dough and someone had just taken a cookie cutter and made a child-sized shape out of it.

You can't be happy unless you're unhappy sometimes".

That is the strangest thing about the world: how it looks so different from every point of view.

For a second I feel a rush of sadness: for the horizons that vanish behind us, for the people we leave behind, the tiny-doll selves that get stored away and ultimately buried.

Love: It will kill you and save you, both

So many things become beautiful when you really look.

It's like a razor blade edging its way through my organs, shredding me, all I can think is: It will kill me, it will kill me, it will kill me. And I don't care.

The rules of Panic are simple. Anyone can enter. But only one person will win.

One of the strangest things about life is that it will chug on, blind and oblivious, even as your private world - your little carved-out sphere - is twisting and morphing, even breaking apart.

Juliet!' I whip around but not quickly enough. She's swallowed by the crowd, the gap that allowed her to break for the door closing just as quickly as it opened, a shifting Tetris pattern of bodies.

This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.

Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.

Snapshots, moments, mere seconds: as fragile and beautiful and hopeless as a single butterfly, flapping on against a gathering wind.

The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t.

How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all?

If you’re smart, you care. And if you care, you love.

This is what happens when you try to help people. You get screwed.