Quotes from Wendelin Van Draanen

I'm not going to be able to sleep a wink tonight. I hate shelters. People coughing and snoring and hacking up who-knows-what. It's a nightmare. But I do have clean teeth.

Summers there are awful! Winters there are awful! Why do you stay? You ought to run away! Hop a train! Stow away on a bus! What am I saying? You could just buy yourself a ticket. It would be interesting to talk to you if you did it the other way, though. We could compare scars and bruises. It might be fun.

And for the first time in my life, I had that feeling. You know, like the world is moving all around you, all beneath you, all inside you, and you're floating.

A million dollars sounds like a lot, I know. Especially when you're young. But you can't let money erode your principles or you'll wind up with nothing.

Anger is a fuel that can only carry you so far.

My heart stopped. It just stopped beating. And for the first time in my life, I had that feeling. You know, like the world is moving all around you, all beneath you, all inside you, and you're floating. Floating in midair. And the only thing keeping you from drifting away is the other person's eyes. They're connected to yours by some invisible physical force, and they hold you fast while the rest of the world swirls and twirls and fall completely away.

I've decided this is all your fault, Ms. Leone. I've run away before, you know, but stowed away or jumped trains or broke into buildings, I just ran away and got caught. But I think all that stuff you told us about the Underground Railroad got lodged in my subconscious, and somewhere inside it gave me the strength or courage or insanity to really get away. So see? This is all your fault.

I've never thought about Who I want to be. The question has always been What do you want to be?

how the cow by itself is just a cow, and the meadow by itself is just grass and flowers, and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light, but put them all together and you've got magic.

I liked it. I liked her. And every time I saw her, she seemed more beautiful. She just seemed to glow. I'm not talking like a hundred-watt bulb; she just had this warmth to her. Maybe it came from climbing that tree. Maybe it came from singing to chickens.

I also finally see that a crimson kiss isn't something you can chase, because it's more than just the passionate meeting of mouths. It's a confession. It's the truth your lips whisper to someone you love.

Then a few months ago I found myself talking to the tree. An entire conversation, just me and a tree. And on the climb down I felt like crying. Why didn't I have someone real to talk to? Why didn't I have a best friend like everyone else seemed to? Sure, there were kids I knew at school, but none of them were close friends. They'd have no interest in climbing the tree. In smelling the sunshine.

Maybe it's time to meet him in the proper light.

All I know is that compared to her, Shelly and Miranda seemed so… ordinary.

But I've never spoken to a grave before. I don't know what to say. I don't know how. 'I'm so sorry,' I choke out, but that's as far as I get before I start crying. I feel bad that she's gone. I feel overwhelmed. And I feel guilt. Guilt that I've recovered. Guilt that I'm happy. Guilt that I ever thought she was the lucky one.

At first we tried to keep up, but soon we were tired of boiling and pickling and deviling, and my mother started complaining that all these free eggs were costing her way too much.

It's to have people see her instead of her condition. That's all that anybody with a disability wants. Don't sum up the person based on what you see, or what you don't understand; get to know them.

Repetition. Effort. Pain. Success. There really is no shortcut.

And, dude, the truth is, if you're gonna be like this, I don't need the association.

Today I've been considering how life's journey is not about the distance we move our feet, but how we are moved in our heart.

It was nice, though, riding with my father. It was like the silence connected us in a way that explanations never could.

Misery loves company.

One by one by one by one. That's how I got through losing a leg. Minute by minute by minute by minute. Hour by hour by hour by hour. Day by day by day by day. That's how anybody makes it through anything

This is the kind of silence that connects us in a way that words never could.