Lauren Oliver Quotes

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it

Find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.

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

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.

And now I know why they invented words for love, why they had to: It's the only thing that can come close to describing what I feel in that moment, the baffling mixture of pain and pleasure and fear and joy, all running sharply through me at once.

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

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

Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things, just sit still and let the world exist in front of you - sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes and the world pauses in its tilt. Just for a second. And if you somehow found a way to live in that second, then you would live forever.

Once you let in the word, once you allow it to take root, it will spread like a mold through all of your corners and dark spaces - and with it, the questions, the shivery, splintered fears, enough to keep you permanently awake.

That’s when I realized that certain moments go on forever. Even after they’re over they still go on, even after you're dead and buried, those moments are lasting still, backward and forward, on into infinity. They are everything and everywhere all at once.

She liked the word ineffable because it meant a feeling so big or vast that it could not be expressed in words.

And yet, because it could not be expressed in words, people had invented a word to express it, and that made Liesl feel hopeful, somehow.

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

The world has nothing to offer me, no single shred of interest. I'm a woman trapped on a balcony, watching a passing parade, a blur of noise and motion that eventually turns to a single point on the horizon, a gutter full of trampled and muddy cups, and the sense of wasting an afternoon.

Who knows? Maybe they’re right. Maybe we are driven crazy by our feelings. Maybe love is a disease, and we would be better off without it.
But we have chosen a different road. And in the end that is the point of escaping the cure: We are free to choose.
We are even free to choose the wrong thing.

We wanted the freedom to love. We wanted the freedom to choose. Now we have to fight for it.

I told you," he whispers back. I can feel his breath just tickling the space behind my ear, making my hair prick up on my neck. "I like you."
"You don't know me," I say quickly.
"I want to, though.

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

....love and desire enjoy a symbiotic relationship, meaning that one cannot exist without the other. Desire is an enemy to contentment; desire is illness, a feverish brain. Who can be considered healthy who wants? The very word want suggests a lack, an impoverishment, and that is what desire is: an impoverishment of the brain, a flaw, a mistake.

That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.

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.