Quotes from Laurie Halse Anderson

I was the reason she didn't run away freshman year. I was the reason she didn't eat a bottle of sleeping pills when her boyfriend cheated on her. I listened for hours when her parents yelled and tried to stuff her into a mannequin shell that didn't fit. I understood what triggered her earthquakes, most of them.

Art without emotion is like chocolate cake without sugar. It makes you gag.

Plants make way more seeds than they need, because they know that life is not perfect and all the seeds won't make it.

It is a pretend question, one he asked so he could give the answer. I relax. This is like when my father complains about his boss. The best thing to do is to stay awake and blink sympathetically.

My fingers stroking the bark, seeking a Braille code, a clue, a message on how to come back to life after my long undersnow dormancy. I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So how can I find my way? Is there a chainsaw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

Home was still hellish, afire with the painful realization that no matter how much I loved my parents my love could not fix them

Love messes you up and makes you do strange things

I learned then that words had such power some must never be spoken and was thus robbed of both tongue and the truth.

Does being forced to sit in time-out ever make little kids stop putting cats in the dishwasher or drawing on white walls with purple marker? Of course not. It teaches them to be sneaky and guarantees that when they get to high school they'll love detention because it's a great place to sleep.

The difference between forgetting something and not remembering it is big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through.

i lean into the mirror. eyes after eyes after eyes stare back at me. am i in there somewhere?

She even tried to teach us the difference between active voice—"I snarfed the Oreos"—and passive voice—"The Oreos got snarfed.

I lean into the mirror. Eyes after eyes after eyes stare back at me. Am I in there somewhere? A thousand eyes blink.

Nothing is perfect. Flaws are interesting.

I try to read while eating alone, but the noise gets between my eyes and the page and I can't see through it.

Não existe cura mágica, nem como fazer tudo desaparecer para sempre. Existem apenas pequenos passos adiante; um dia mais fácil, uma risada inesperada, um espelho que não importa mais.

I cut class, you cut class, he, she, it cuts class. We cut class, they cut class. We all cut class. I cannot say this in Spanish, because I did not go to Spanish today. Gracias a dios.

We fall into clans: Jocks, Country Clubbers, Idiot Savants, Cheerleaders, Human Waste, Eurotrash, Future Fascists of America, Big Hair Chix, the Marthas, Suffering Artists, Thespians, Goths, Shredders. I am clanless.

It is easier not to say anything. Shut your trap, button your lip, can it. All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.   Mr.

Picasso sure had a thing for naked women. Why not draw them with their clothes on? Who sits around without a shirt on, plucking a mandolin? Why not draw naked guys, just to be fair? Naked women is art, naked guys a no-no, I bet. Probably because most painters are men.

WE ARE THE HORNETS, HORNY, HORNY HORNETS!

We had eight inches of snow last night. In any other part of the country, that would mean a snow day. Not in Syracuse. We never get snow days. It snows an inch in South Carolina, everything shuts down and they get on the six o'clock news. In our district, they plow early and often and put chains on the bus tires.

I cut class, you cut class, he, she, it cuts class. We cut class, they cut class. We all cut class. I cannot say this in Spanish, because I did not go to Spanish today. Gracias a dios. Hasta luego.

I hate winter. I've lived in Syracuse my whole life and I hate winter. It starts too early and ends too late. No one likes it.