Quotes from Elizabeth Scott

I love this time of day,' Josh says-talking to me, he's talking to me!-and I try to think of the right thing to say. 'I love you' sounds a little intense for the conversation. 'Can we make out?' sounds like something Jackson would say, and even if I am thinking it, I never want to sound like Jackson. Ever. 'Me too,' is what I come up with. Brilliant, right?

She has no idea who I am, not really. She's just someone who's noticed me because the video and she'll forget what she's said before the day is over. Me? Not so much, but I go on, my legs shaking and a mix of anger and despair burning inside me.

This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple it is, and how amazing.

He kept talking and I thought about taking my copy of Huckleberry Finn and stuffing it in his mouth so he'd shut up.

How can I remember a world that isn't mine? One that isn't the one I wake up in every day now?

I thought you were going to— you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something?" "My ladder's at home.

I will always know what life can take, but I am ready to see what it can give.

You can tell yourself that you aren't something or that you can't be something, and you know what? It will become true. You have to decide who you are and what you can do and then go after what you want. Because believe me, no one is going to give it to you.

This death expert said it's everything underground that makes grass so green. That dead things make the living. I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.

Love-real love-can't be defined. It just is.

No, it can't," I say. "It's— it's the kind of thing you want to say, that you want to believe, but it isn't— I know isn't true. I thought my heart knew things, but what I thought was real turned out to be a lie, and now I don't—

I want to care, but I don't.

Everyone else carries a backpack, but not Josh. He has a cool, beat-up messenger bag, covered with stickers protesting all kinds of things.

She is so relieved to know that he's better and is finally getting the sleep he needs and she misses him.

The sun flitered in through the small, dirty windows, catches his eyes. They are brown, ordinary, but the way he looks at me—no one has ever looked at me like he does. He looks at me like he sees something. Someone. Me. "All right," he says, and puts his hands behind his head. "Go ahead.

I know I should say he suddenly seemed vulnerable and I felt a connection to his soul or whatever, but the truth is I just wanted to tackle him and then make out for the next three thousand years.

You can plan all you want, but you will never know what will be. Life just is, and I am here in it. I am waiting for what comes next.

Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.' 'He didn't grope my face. We were talking. And he also bought me animal crackers. I like them.' 'You also bitched about them not being in the vending machine for a week. Everyone in the building knows you like animal crackers.' 'I don't see you bringing me any.' 'Do you want me to?

After a couple of days of complete hell , rest is at the top of the agenda. As he fades away to an overdue peacefulness, he misses her .

If she could breathe then it could be heard, but she was breathless.

I see it in his eyes, he has eyes you can see everything in, and I say, "Morgan," my voice as quiet as the ghost I am supposed to be.

I sit next to Caleb, waiting and thinking about what life really is. About how it has its own will. How it shows you things that rip you open, tear your world apart. How it unfolds even when you think it can't. How it takes you places you never thought you'd be. Shows you things you never knew you wanted to see. Brings you pain - and joy.

You,I think. I am terrified of you. Of how your kindness makes me like you in spite of myself. Of how you make me dream things I haven't dreamed in forever. You,I think. But I don't say it.

Everyone gets scared," like it's some big profound statement?