Now, after so many years, I understand what the Coldness was and where it came from—this sense that everything is lost, and worthless, and meaningless.

Popularity’s a weird thing. You can’t really define it, and it’s not cool to talk about, but you know it when you see it. Like a lazy eye, or porn.

Hope keeps you alive.

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good. You may think the past has something to tell you. You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers,...

I learned to swallow words back, hold secrets on my tongue until they dissolved like soap bubbles.

Don’t you get it? You can’t tell me what to feel.

young adult,” and after that you’re a totally different person. Maybe even a less happy person. Maybe even a worse one.

His eyes are blazing with light, more light than all the lights in every city in the whole world, more light than we could ever invent if we had ten thousand billion years.

This is what we are made for: promises, pledges, and sworn oaths of obedience.

She always imagined their voices entangled somewhere in the wires when they spoke, caught up in a grid she didn’t fully understand, passing back and forth. Once the calls were disconnected, she imagined the echoes...

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.

It seems like as we stand there I’m watching my whole life with Hana, our entire friendship, fall away: sleepover parties with forbidden midnight bowls of popcorn; all the times we rehearsed for Evaluation Day,...

For a second, I feel a sense of overwhelming grief: for how things change, for the fact that we can never go back. I’m not certain of anything anymore. I don’t know what will happen–

(I)f you do not believe that hearts can bloom suddenly bigger, and that love can open like a flower out of even the hardest places, then I am afraid that for you the road will...

I hate skin; I hate bones and bodies. I want to curl up inside of him and be carried there forever.

Cinta akan membunuh, sekaligus menyelamatkanmu.

In my mind, I was reliving my whole life again-slowly, taking my time. Delaying.Because I knew, sooner or later, I’d get to her.And then…Well, I’d already died once. I couldn’t live through it again.

You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it’s taking forever to come. Then it happens and it’s over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment...

You can build walls all the way to the sky and I will find a way to fly above them. You can try to pin me down with a hundred thousand arms, but I will...

What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.

The details that are life’s special pattern, like how in handwoven rugs what really makes them unique are the tiny flaws in the stitching, little gaps and jumps and stutters that can never be reproduced....

It’s like the idea of him is better than the him of him.

What’s poetry?” I’ve never heard the word before, but I like the sound of it. It sounds elegant and easy, somehow, like a beautiful woman turning in a long dress.

Sometimes day and night reverse. Sometimes up goes down and down goes up, and love turns into hate, and the things you counted on get washed out from under your feet, leaving you pedaling in...

They told us love was a disease. They told us it would kill us in the end.For the very first time I realize, that this, too, might also be a lie.

So: outside, and to the black rush of the Presumpscot River.To freedom.For me, the world was beginning.

My boyfriend’s an idiot,” I say as soon as he lurches away.”A cute idiot,” Ally corrects me.”That’s like saying ‘a cute mutant.’ Doesn’t exist.

Live free or die.

Aquí hay algo más que recordar: la esperanza te mantiene viva. Incluso cuando estás muerta, es lo único que te mantiene viva.

Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, I think, he makes me feel like music.

Is it possible to tell the truth in a society of lies? Or must you always, of necessity, become a liar?And if you lie to a liar, is the sun somehow negated or reversed?

Anger is useful only to a certain point. After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless.

Coincidences; mix-ups; harmless mistakes and switches. And so a story is born.

Nothing has ever been so painful or delicious as being so close to him and being unable to do anything about it: like eating ice cream so fast on a hot day you get a...

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...

I thought if I followed the rules, things would turn out all right. that’s the thing about the cure, isn’t it? It isn’t just about deliria at all. It’s about order. A path for everyone....

And for a moment―for a split second―everything else falls away, the whole pattern and order of my life, and a huge joy crests in my chest. I am no one, and I owe nothing to...

Her fierce and fearful friend –who loved country music and cherry Pop Tarts and singing in public and the color pink, who was terrified of germs and dogs and ladders.

no glove, no love

The alchemist was dazed and dumbfounded, as the true meaning of the magic was revealed: *The dead will rise from glade to glen and ancient will be young again*. The dead had, after all, risen....

Up and down, up and down, a ladder of choices leading to the next choice, and the next, until suddenly you’ve run out of choices, and ladder, and you find time as rare and thin...

I put my forehead on his collarbone, place one hand on his chest. Its rhythm reassures me: He is real, and he is now.

I like you.You don’t know me.I want to, though.

Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.

And you can’t love, not fully, unless you are loved in return.

Maybe before you die, it’s your ghosts you see.

I was going to tell you that you look beautiful with your hair down. That’s all I was going to say.

I think of the quietness of Julian’s voice as he said I love you, the steadiness of his rib cage rising and falling against my back, as we sleep.I love you, Julian. But the words...

Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there’s a tomorrow. Maybe for you there’s one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it,...

Suicide. A sideways word, a word that people whisper and mutter and cough: a word that must be squeezed out behind cupped palms or murmured behind closed doors. It was only in dreams that I...