Quotes from Laurie Halse Anderson

Congratulations, she said formally. You have gradated.

I would be lucky to get an invitation to my own funeral, with my reputation.

A fat white seed sleeps in the sky.

When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time. You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside- walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack, or cancer, or a Mack truck to come along and finish the job.

They only want to hear that you're healing, you're in recovery, taking it one day at a time. If you're locked into sick, you should stop wasting their time and just get dead

Some stand-up comic cracks, 'No, Melinda no es linda.' They call me Me-no-linda for the rest of the period. This is how terrorists get started, this harmless fun.

You can't speak up for your right to be silent, that's letting the bad guys win.

She laid land mines in my skill that detonated weeks later.

I'm sure I was a huge disappointment. I'm not pretty or smart or athletic. I'm just like them—an ordinary drone dressed in secrets and lies.

The box opens and the razors slide out, whisper sweet. Used to be that my whole body was my canvas-hot cuts licking my ribs, ladder rungs climbing my arms, thick milkweed stalks shooting up my thighs.

Keep breathing. It took a few minutes but I won. The grey pulled away from my eyes in ribbons and whispered that it would be back soon.

The stars folded themselves away as the sun peeked above the horizon and cracked open the sky and I kissed him and we laughed and it was good.

LIBERTY IS EQUALLY AS PRECIOUS TO A BLACK MAN, AS IT IS TO A WHITE ONE, AND BONDAGE EQUALLY AS INTOLERABLE TO THE ONE AS IT IS TO THE OTHER . . . . AN AFRICAN, OR A NEGRO MAY JUSTLY CHALLENGE, AND HAS AN UNDENIABLE RIGHT TO HIS LIBERTY: CONSEQUENTLY, THE PRACTISE OF SLAVE-KEEPING, WHICH SO MUCH ABOUNDS IN THIS LAND IS ILLICT. —ESSAY WRITTEN BY AFRICAN AMERICAN LEMUEL HAYNES, VETERAN OF THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON E

On the morning of my Born Day, I thought my problems were over. That I'd grown from Changeling to Amazon. That I was ready to be a warrior. Instead, I lost everything. Everyone. I lost myself, too.

This camp is a forge for the army; it's testing our mettle. Instead of heat and hammer, our trials are cold and hunger. Question is, what are we made of?" The

We held hands when we walked down the gingerbread path into the forest, blood dripping from our fingers. We danced with witches and kissed monsters. We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

We have journals in social studies, too. The school must have gotten a good price on journals.

We are studying American history for the ninth time in nine years. Another review of map skills, one week of Native Americans, Christopher Columbus in time for Columbus Day, the Pilgrims in time for Thanksgiving. Every year they say we're going to get right up to the present, but we always get stuck in the Industrial Revolution. We got to World War 1 in seventh grade - who knew there had been a war with the whole world? We need more holidays to keep the social studies teachers on track.

Dad: And that tree is sick. See how the branches on the left don't have any buds? I should call someone to take a look at it. Don't want it crashing into your room during a storm. Thanks, Dad. Like I'm not already having a hard time sleeping. Worry #64 : flying tree limbs.(...)

There is something about Christmas that requires a rug rat. Little kids make Christmas fun. I wonder if we could rent one for the holidays.

The greatest strength of all is daring to love.

But they are so cute. And they cheer on our boys, inciting them to violence and, we hope, victory. These are our role models — the Girls Who Have It All. I bet none of them ever stutter or screw up or feel like their brains are dissolving into marshmallow fluff. They all have beautiful lips, carefully out- lined in red and polished to a shine.

Listen to the whispers that curl into your head at night, calling you ugly and fat and stupid and bitch and whore and worst of all a disappointment. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you don't want to feel any of this. Puke and starve and cut and drink because you need an anesthetic and it works. For a while. But then the anesthetic turns into poison and by then it's too late because you are mainlining it now, straight into your soul. It is rotting you and you can't stop.

Neither one of them has toilet paper stuck to her boots. Where is the justice?