Quotes About Understanding

I've learned the hard way that the best thing to do is say nothing about what you're really thinking. If you say nothing, they'll assume you're thinking nothing, only what you let them see.

I want to say It's okay to be a person. We're all afraid. We all get hurt. It's okay to hurt. You'd be so much more likable if you just acted human.

What a terrible feeling to love someone and not be able to help them. Actually, I know exactly how that feels.

The fact is, I was sick, but not in an easily explained flu kind of way. It's my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic if they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable disease just to make it simple for me and also for them. Anything would be better than the truth.

Suicide victim' is an interesting term. The victim part of it implies they had no choice. And maybe Finch didn't feel like he had a choice...

I want you to remember that you can't feel responsible for everything. We're your parents, and we will figure us out. All you need to do— any of you"— she looks at my brothers—" is be a kid for now and let us be there for you.""All of us?" Dusty says. "Even those of us without neurological disorders?" "All of you.

Violet smiles back.Immediately,I feel better,because she feels better and because of the way she smiles at me,as if I'm not something to be avoided.

Violet Markey.There's more to you than meets the eye.

My mom used to say sometimes it's actually about the other person and you just happen to be there. Like sometimes the other person needs to learn a lesson or go through an experience, good or bad, and you're just and accessory in some way, like a supporting actor in whatever their scene happens to be

these kids who never did anything to anyone except be born with different brains and different wiring

I feel sorry for everyone in this town who's sleeping.

Across the seat our eyes are holding hands.

Nunca llegas a entender de verdad a una persona hasta que miras las cosas desde su punto de vista. Hasta que te metes en su piel y te paseas dentro de ella.

Can go downstairs right now and let my mom know how I'm feeling—if she's even home—but she'll tell me to help myself to the Advil in her purse and that I need to relax and stop getting myself worked up, because in this house there's no such thing as being sick unless you can measure it with a thermometer under the tongue. Things fall into categories of black and white—bad mood, bad temper, loses control, feels sad, feels blue.

You're actually not a bad guy, Jack Masselin. But I'm not sure you know it yet.

I've had to work really fucking hard to learn everyone, and even if skin color and hair color help me find people, that's not who they are to me. It's not about that. It's about the important things, like the way their face lights up when they laugh, or the way they move as they're walking toward you, or the way their freckles create a map of the stars.

If hypothetically, I did love you, though, it's not because I see you, and Oh well, at least I can see her, so I might as well love her. I'm pretty sure I see you because I love you. And yeah, I guess I love you because I see you, as in I see you, Libby, as in all of you, as in every last amazing thing.

Even monkeys recognize each other

This girl," I tell Rachel. "That's not what I look like. That's not who I am." I have a feeling Rachel will get this because she pretended to be straight all through high school, even though she figured out she was a lesbian when she was in eighth grade. I say it again, "That's not me." Her eyes light up. "Great. Let's see if we can find her.

She was my best friend." "I've never had one. What's it like?" "I don't know. I guess you can be yourself, whatever that means—the best and the worst of you. And they love you anyway. You can fight, but even when you're mad at them, you know they're not going to stop being your friend.

I can go downstairs right now and let my mom know how I am feeling-if she's even home-but she'll tell me to help myself to the Advil in her purse and that I need to relax and stop getting myself worked up, because in this house there's no such thing as being sick unless you can measure it with a thermometer under the tongue. Things fall into categories of black and white- bad mood, bad temper, loses control, feels sad, feels blue.

I'm sorry. I love you. But not sorry I love you because I could never be sorry for that.

I know the way you move. I know the way you look at me. I see you see me, and you're the only one that looks at me that way. Whether I'm with you or away from you, I don't have to think about it or put the puzzle pieces together. It's just you. That's what I know.

I love: the way her eyes spark when we're talking or when she's telling me something she wants me to know, the way she mouths the words to herself when she's reading and concentrating, the way she looks at me as if there's only me, as if she can see past the flesh and bone and bullshit right into the me that's there, the one I don't even see myself.