Quotes from Jennifer Niven

There are different ways to die. There's jumping off a roof and there's slowly poisoning yourself with the flesh of another every single day.

I've always thought you should be able to freeze time. This way you could hit the Pause button at a really good point in your life so that nothing changes

This time will be different. This time, I will stay awake.

Sometimes all I did all day was just wander around in my mind.

I run until time stops. Until my mind stops.

You make me love you...

Everyone around you is going to give you a gentle push now and then, but never hard enough because they don't want to upset Poor Violet. You need shoving, not pushing. You need to jump back on that camel. Otherwise you're going to stay up on the ledge you've made for yourself.

There are no rules, because life is made up of too many rules as it is.

If you're not careful, you're going to run into someone angrier than you.

And then she kisses me. It's the kind of kiss that makes me lose track of everything, and so it may take hours or minutes by the time we break apart.

Every forty seconds, someone is left behind to cope with the loss.

I can feel the worries fading away. I'm relaxed and happy—happier than I've been in a while. I am in the moment. I am here.

How can something so final happen in an instant? No preparation. No warning. No chance to do all the things you planned to do. No chance to say goodbye.

Because in this house there's no such thing as being sick unless you can measure it with a thermometer under the tongue.

I think what an amazing world this would be if we all danced everywhere we went.

There is only now,' he says, 'and if now is only two days, then two days is your life and everything in it will be in proportion.

The Parents, as my mother and father refer to Mr. Finch and Mrs. Finch, are insisting it was an accident, which, I guess, means we're free to mourn him out in the open in a normal, healthy, unstigmatised way. No need to be ashamed or embarrassed since suicide isn't involved.

By the time we're done, their guests have gathered outside to see the boy who must have flowers to give to the girl he loves.

But that isn't why. The why is that none of it matters. Not school, not cheerleading, not boyfriends or friends or parties or creative writing programs or Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â She waves her arms at the world. "It's all just time filler until we die.

I hate you. If only I'd known. If only I'd been enough . I let you down. I wish I could have done something. I should have done something. Was it my fault? Why wasn't I enough? Come back. I love you. I'm sorry.

You are not alone." Before I can tell him, Actually I am, which is part of the problem; we are all alone, trapped in these bodies and our own minds, and whatever company we have in this life is only fleeting and superficial, he tightens his grip until I worry my arm will snap off. "And we are not done discussing this.

In case you haven't noticed, we're already involved, Finch. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm broken too.

We never know how long we have. We're never guaranteed tomorrow. I could die right now, right here.

I skim through our notebook, thick with words, and then through our Facebook messages—so many now—and then I write a new one, quoting Virginia Woolf: "Let us wander whirling to the gilt chairs.… Are we not acceptable, moon? Are we not lovely sitting together here Ã¢â'¬Â¦?