Quotes from Jodi Picoult

There are always sides. There is always a winner, and a loser. For every person who gets, there's someone who must give.

MY MOTHER USED to say that blue eyes were bad luck, because you could see everything that a blue-eyed person was thinking, but I didn't heed the warning the first time I met Wyatt Armstrong.

Prisiminimai n?ra kapitalas, kur? turi vis? gyvenim?.Tai - tam tikra atminties kiekyb?,sukaupiama,sužadinama ir išstumiama ? s?mon?.

When you find the person you are supposed to love, you will know by staring deeply into her eyes. Well, that's a deal breaker for me. It is hard for me to explain why it is so difficult to look into people's eyes. Imagine what it would be like if someone sliced your chest with a scalpel and rummaged around inside you, squeezing your heart and lungs and kidneys. That level of complete invasion is what it feels like when I make eye contact.

She had nothing left inside. She'd given it all to her son. And that was the greatest heartbreak of all—no matter how spectacular we want our children to be, no matter how perfect we pretend they are, they are bound to disappoint. As it turns out, kids are more like us than we think: damaged, through and through.

My scholar, my serious, sweet boy, is now a rebel—holed up in his room listening to music so loud it makes the walls shake or texting friends I did not know he had; coming home past curfew smelling of hard liquor and weed. I have fought, I have cried, and now, I am not sure what else to do. The whole train of our lives is in the process of derailing; this is only one of the cars skidding off the tracks.

When you are attracted to people, it's because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. Their smile. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.

I know what love is, but only theoretically. I don't feel it the way other people do.

Paranormal experiences are just energy manifesting itself in some way: a flashlight flickering on when you haven't pressed the button; a vision during an electrical storm; your cell phone ringing, and no one on the other end of the line. A surge of energy pulsed through networks to give me a message—I just can't tell who's sent it.

As Roxana Robinson said, "A writer is like a tuning fork: we respond when we're struck by something….If we're lucky we'll transmit a strong pure note, one that isn't ours, but which passes through us.

The people we define as crazy just might be more sane than you and me.

I had come to see a beautiful liberation in this new way of thinking—which was, ironically, not having to think for myself.

And then one day, you turn around, and your baby is a man.

Sometimes, ridiculously, the more perfect he was the angrier she got, as if his generosity existed only to highlight her own selfishness.

Brit had wanted it to say LOVED. Those were the directions she gave me for the granite carver. But at the last minute I changed it. I was never going to stop, so why make it past tense? I

She knew, even at that young age, that you cannot separate good and evil cleanly, that they are conjoined twins sharing a single heart.

History isn't about dates and places and wars. It is about the people who fill the spaces between them.

Then you're the one. Allie blinked at him. The one what? The one who loves more. ... You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone always puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride.

Things don't always look as they seem. Make of it what you will.

Do you owe someone only the care they provided for you? Or does believing that make you as culpable as they were?

The same things that trip you up as a human will tie you in knots as a spirit, if you don't let go and let God. Speaking of God, He's real and He's there, too. And don't ask what He looks like because you wouldn't understand even if I told you. There's just some things none of us are supposed to know, until it's our time.

wanted to hear more about Thomas. I wanted to know that he had a good heart, that he had saved someone on the brink, that I could depend on him. I wanted in him all the traits any female would want in the male she chose as the father for her offspring.

you eventually make the decision to divide your life in half—before and after—with loss being that tight bubble in the middle. You can move around in spite of it; you can laugh and smile and carry on with your life, but all it takes is one slow range of motion, a doubling over, to be fully aware of the empty space at your center.

You could lose track of someone when you blinked, Alex realized. She vowed not to let that happen to her and her daughter. Because when it came down to it, being a judge didn't matter nearly as much as being a mother. When Alex's clerk had told her the news about the World Trade Center, her first thought had not been for her constituents . . . only for Josie.