Quotes from Gabrielle Zevin

Lights, bright enough to dilate her eyes. Horns, flaccid and come too late. Metal crumpling like tissue. The body was not in pain but only because the body was gone, elsewhere. Yes, Daniel thinks just after impact but before death, like that. The passage hadn't been as bad as he had thought.

She used to say that a bad marriage was one that hadn't had enough time to get good again.

Freda would grab his hand with her soft, old hand, and pat it gently, and say, "Life is long" or

You may not ever have a romantic relationship with Sadie, but you two will be friends for the rest of your lives, and that is something of equal or greater value, if you choose to see it that way.

The first time Marian Wallace came to see me, I was five months pregnant. She had Maya with her, and the baby was about two.

he has bushy blond eyebrows and a voice that makes her think of damask. One afternoon a week or so after New Year's, Daniel and Maya are reading on the floor of the bookstore when she turns to him and says, "Uncle Daniel, I have a question. Don't you ever go to work?" "I'm working right now, Maya," Daniel says. She takes off her glasses and wipes them on her shirt. "You don't look like you're working. You look

And what is love, in the end?...Except the irrational desire to put evolutionary competitiveness aside in order to ease someone else's journey through life?

On the day she found Daedalus blowing the glass heart, she had suspected Sam, but she had also allowed herself not to know. She wanted to play more than she wanted to know. Sadie told Sam he had tricked her, but the truth was, she had tricked herself. It was embarrassing how much that silly, exquisite world had meant to her. A year and a half later, she

Lei vuole morire? Perchè, se vuole morire, posso metterla sotto osservazione psichiatrica. >> << Non voglio morire>>, mormora A.J. dopo un pò. << Trovo semplicemente difficile essere sempre qui. Crede che sia pazzo? >>

I go to Marian Wallace's dorm room, and I throw the book on her bed. I tell her, 'Look, you can sell this. It's worth a lot of money.' And she looks at the book dubiously, and she says, 'Is it hot?' And I say, 'No, it belongs to Daniel, and he wants you to have it, but you can never say where it came from. Bring it to an auction house or a rare-books dealer. Claim you found it in a used-books bin somewhere.

En fråga jag har tänkt en hel del på är varför det är så mycket enklare att skriva om det vi ogillar/inte tå/inte tycker håller måttet än det som vi älskar (s. 247).

Amelia the bright-sider believes it is better to be alone than to be with someone who doesn't share your sensibilities and interests.

cops have been calling about a stolen copy of Tamerlane. She takes the book from her bag and hands it to me. I throw it back at her. 'What am I going to do with this?' Marian Wallace just shakes her head. The book lands on the floor, and the little

We are not quite novels. The analogy he is looking for is almost there. We are not quite short stories. At this point, his life is seeming closest to that. In the end, we are collected works. He has read enough to know there are no collections where each story is perfect. Some hits. Some misses. If you're lucky, a standout. And in the end, people only really remember the standouts anyway, and they don't remember those for very long.

Still . . . my mom may have been trying to get me not to worry. I am "neurotic." "Neurotic" means "I think about things until I am sick.

To begin, it is narrated by Death!

I've made so many mistakes,' she says. 'I can't help you,' I say. She shakes her head and picks up the baby. 'We'll be out of your way now,' she says. 'Merry Christmas.' "And they leave. I'm pretty shaken up, so I go into the kitchen to make myself some tea. When I get back out to the living room, I notice that the little girl has left her backpack and Tamerlane is on the floor next to it.

he feels a vaguely familiar, slightly intolerable bubbling inside of him. He wants to laugh out loud or punch a wall. He feels drunk or at least carbonated. Insane. At first, he thinks this is happiness, but then he determines it's love.

A.J. nods out of politeness, but he doesn't believe in random acts. He is a reader, and what he believes in is narrative construction. If a gun appears in act one, that gun had better go off by act three. "Maybe

That night, A.J. calls me about the proper things to feed a baby. He's got Maya at his apartment, and I agree to go over." "The day after that, Marian Wallace washes up by the lighthouse," Lambiase says.

Ninguém viaja sem propósito. Aqueles que estão perdidos querem estar perdidos.

An e-reader! I've wanted one for a really long time." She shoots a quick look over to her father. He nods, though his eyebrow is twitching slightly. "Thanks, Nana." Maya kisses her grandmother on the cheek.

He's got one thick book. He's in the middle of Infinite Jest. You ever heard of it?

There ain't nobody in the world like book people. It's a business of gentlemen and gentlewomen.