I've learned to get really good at this - say one thing when I'm thinking about something else, act like I'm listening when I'm not, pretend to be calm and happy when I'm really freaking out. It's one of the skills you perfect as you get older
Lauren OliverTags: acting listening pretending
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.
Hate isn’t the most dangerous thing, he’d said. Indifference is.
Lauren OliverI guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.
Lauren OliverStanding there in-between two disgusting Dumpsters in some crappy alley
with the whole world crumbling down around me, and hearing Alex say those
words, all the fear I have carried with me since I learned to sit, stand, breathe—
since I was told that at the very heart of me was something wrong, something
rotten and diseased, something to be suppressed—since I was told that I was
always just a heartbeat away from being damaged—all of it vanishes at once.
That thing—the heart of hearts of me, the core of my core—stretches and unfurls
even further, soaring like a flag: making me feel stronger than I ever have before.
It occurs to me that for a long time she has been doing
her own version of resisting.
I'd rather die my way than live yours.
Lauren OliverTags: self-determination self-reliance independence lena-holoway
Happiness is found when no one is looking
Lauren OliverMost things, even the greatest movements on earth, have their beginnings in something small. An earthquake that shatters a city with a tremor, a tremble, a breath. Music begins with a vibration. The flood that rushed into Portland twenty years ago after nearly two months of straight rain, that hurtled up beyond the labs and damaged more than a thousand houses, swept up tire and trash bags and old, smelly shoes and floated them through the streets like prizes, that left a thin film of green mold behind, a stench of rotting and decay that didn't go away for months, began with a trickle of water, no wider than a finger, lapping up onto the docks. And
God created the whole universe from an atom no bigger than a thought. Grace's life fell apart because of a single word: sympathizer. My world exploded because of a different word: suicide. Correction: That was the first time my world exploded. The second time my world exploded, it was also because of a word. A word that worked its way out of my throat and danced onto and out of my lips before I could think about it, or stop it. The question was: Will you meet me tomorrow? And the word was: Yes.
Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.
Lauren OliverTags: inspirational
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