Quotes from E. Lockhart

How was I supposed to concentrate on my mental health when my therapist was encased in orange sparkle madness?

We are liars. We are beautiful and privileged. We are cracked and broken.

There is not even a Scrabble word for how bad I feel.

She is sugar, curiosity, and rain.

He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever.

The universe is seeming really huge right now. I need something to hold on to.

What if we could stop being different colors, different backgrounds, and just be in love?

Silence is a protective coating over pain.

If you want to live where people are not afraid of mice, you must give up living in palaces.

Someone once wrote that a novel should deliver a series of small astonishments. I get the same thing spending an hour with you.

Here I am frozen, when I deserve to burn.

I suffer migraines. I do not suffer fools.

Always do what you're afraid to do. ... I will prove myself strong when they think I am sick. I will prove myself brave when they think I am weak.

It is better to be alone, she figures, than to be with someone who can't see who you are. It is better to lead than to follow. It is better to speak up than stay silent. It is better to open doors than to shut them on people. She will not be simple and sweet. She will not be what people tell her to be. That Bunny Rabbit is dead.

Better than chocolate, being with you last night. Silly me, I thought that nothing was better than chocolate.

It shattered something inside me that hadn't been broken before.

Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound, then from my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.

One day, she ventured to the palace library and was delighted to find what good company books could be.

She will not be simple and sweet. She will not be what people tell her she should be.

They know that tragedy is not glamorous. They know it doesn't play out in life as it does on a stage or between the pages of a book. It is neither a punishment meted out nor a lesson conferred. Its horrors are not attributable to one single person. Tragedy is ugly and tangled, stupid and confusing.

I'll be fine, they tell me. I won't die. It'll just hurt a lot.

He looked at you like you were the brightest planet in the galaxy.

Secrets are more powerful when people know you've got them.

She confused being spartan with being charitable, and gave away her possessions without truly doing good with them. She confused being sick with being brave, and suffered agonies while imagining she merited praise for it. She confused wit with intelligence, and made people laugh rather than lightening their hearts or making them think.