Quotes from Robyn Schneider

Fine! You guys can all be beautiful snowflakes! I'm gonna go over here and be an awkward snowflake!

Sometimes a day last an hour, and sometimes it lasts a year

She tasted like buried treasure and swing swets and coffee. She tasted the way fireworks felt, like something you could get close to but never really have just for yourself.

But I know now that isn't true; history is filled with fictional people. And even the epigraph Fitzgerald placed at the beginning of The Great Gatsby is by a writer who doesn't exist. We have all been fooled into believing in people who are entirely imaginary—made-up prisoners in a hypothetical panopticon. But the point isn't whether or not you believe in imaginary people; it's whether or not you want to.

Because that's all you can do in this world, no matter how strong the current beats you, or how heavy your burden, or how tragic your love story. You keep going. It took a lot of things to make me realize that. To make me see the path, as the destination.

There was this philosopher-slash-historian called Foucault, who wrote about how society is like this legendary prison called panopticon. In the panopticon, you might be underconstant observation, except you can never be sure whether someone is watching or not, so you wind up following the rules anyway." "But how do you know who's a watcher and who's a prisoner?"... "That's the point. Even the watchers are prisoners.

Here's a secret," I said. "There's a difference between being dead and dying. We're all dying. Some of us die for ninety years, and some of us die for nineteen. But each morning everyone on this planet wakes up one day closer to their death. Everyone. So living and dying are actually different words for the same thing, if you think about it.

We're like a positively charged molecule, the rate we're attracting tragedy.

We move through each other's lives like ghosts, leaving behind haunting memories of people who never existed.

I didn't want to kiss you good-bye—that was the trouble— I wanted to kiss you good night— and there's a lot of difference. —ERNEST HEMINGWAY Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story. —F. SCOTT FITZGERALD

They say your skin is the largest organ in your body, but I'd never really appreciated that before, the way his fingertips slowly tracing the curve of my jaw could travel down the entire length of my body, covering me in goose bumps. The way he could make me feel flushed with something that wasn't fever.

I reached for the switch on my desk lamp and flashed HELLO. The lights switched off in Cassidy's bedroom, and her flashlight flicked on. SORRY. "She's sorry," I told Cooper, because he didn't understand Morse code. He lifted his head as if to say But you already knew that, old sport. Her flashlight flickered again. FORGIVE ME. This time, I didn't hesitate. ALWAYS, I replied.

The way I figured it, keeping quiet was safe. Words could betray you if you chose the wrong ones, or mean less if you used too many. Jokes could be grandly miscalculated, or stories deemed boring, and I'd learned early on that my sense of humor and ideas about what sorts of things were fascinating didn't exactly overlap with my friends'.

But second chances aren't forever Even miracles have an expiration date.

There's a word for it," she told me, "in French, for when you have a lingering impression of something having passed by. Sillage. I always think of it when a firework explodes and lights up the smoke from the ones before it.

I wondered what things became when you no longer needed them, and I wondered what the future would hold once we'd gotten past our personal tragedies and proven them ultimately survivable.

One thing I've realized about new places is that they're like jeans. Sure, they might fit in, but they're not comfortable. They need time to be broken in

Omigod, I'm so bored I could shoot myself in the head with a knife.

No one wants to get hurt." " Well, maybe not, but sometime's it's worth it.

I don't see the point in caffeine without coffee. Or coffee without caffeine, for that matter," I informed him.

We all reach for whatever we think is going to dull the pain, and sometimes we don't even want whatever it is, we just want to not be miserable, you know?

The world tends toward chaos, you know," Cassidy said. "I'm just helping it along.

For the girl who secretly hoped she'd get a Hogwarts letter - For the girl who makes wishes on every 11:11 - For the girl who ran out of space on her bookshelves and bought this book anyway

The pause in conversation when you're about to introduce someone but you've forgotten their name. There's a word for it. In Scotland, it's called a tartle.