But that wasn't why the boy, whose name was Will but who also answered to "Useless" and "Hopeless" and "Snot-Face" and "Sniveler" (at least when the alchemist was the one calling to him), felt sorry for himself.
Lauren OliverPoetry isn't like any writing I've ever heard before. I don't understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.
Lauren OliverTags: poetry
Once Mo had closed the gates, he returned to his little stone hut, and his half-eaten sandwich of butter and canned sardines, and his mug of thick hot chocolate, which every night he poured carefully into a thermos labeled COFFEE.
Lauren OliverMaybe before you die, it's your ghosts you see.
Lauren OliverMusic, I think, he makes me feel like music.
Lauren OliverMost of the time - 99 percent of the time - you just don't know how and why the threads are looped together, and that's okay. Do a good thing and something bad happens. Do a bad thing and something good happens. Do nothing and everything explodes.
And very, very rarely - by some miracle of chance and coincidence, butterflies beating their wings just so and all the threads hanging together for a minute - you get the chance to do the right thing.
Tags: time randomness doing-the-right-thing
Waste today, want tomorrow...
Lauren OliverTags: raven lauren-oliver pandemonium
Grief is like sinking, like being buried. I am in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt. Every breath is full of choking. There is nothing to hold on to, no sides, no way to claw myself up. There is nothing to do but let go.
Let go. Feel the weight all around you, feel the squeezing of your lungs, the slow, low pressure. Let yourself go deeper. There is nothing but bottom. There is nothing but the taste of metal, and the echoes of old things, and days that look like darkness.
Tags: grief lauren-oliver
That's the thing: We didn't really care. A world without love is also a world without stakes.
Lauren OliverThere is nothing else for people to do. They do not think. They feel no passion, no hatred, no sadness; they feel nothing but fear, and a desire to control. So they watch, and poke, and pry.
Lauren Oliver« first previous
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