Quotes About Understanding

Heat is in proportion to the want of true knowledge.

When you meet a man who is broken, pick him up and carry him. When you meet a woman who's broken, put her all into your arms. Cause we don't know where we come from … we don't know where we are.

Your eyes. It's a day's worth of work to look into them.

Marriage, it turned out, was a series of small events.

If I told you, you'd only know it in your mind, not in your heart. There's a big difference.

Fruity said, "It went in one ear and out the other." Baba said, "Not surprising. There's very little in between to stop it.

I knew how much it hurt to be the daughter of people who can't see you, not even if you are standing in front of them stomping your feet.

I needed to hear the world but didn't want the world to know I was listening.

There's no point in asking why, even though everybody will. I know why. The harder question is why not? I can't believe she ran out of answers before I did.

They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.

He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.

You're the one who doesn't understand, I've been standing on the edge with you for years.

Having a friend made everything else suck less.

Note: 'family' does NOT only mean a biological unit composed of people who share genetic markers or legal bonds, headed by a heterosexual-mated pair. Family is much, much more than that.

I nod like I'm listening,like we're communicating, and she never knows the difference.

I could never hate you, even if I wanted to.

It was the most eloquent silence I ever heard.

He says a million things without saying a word. I make a note to study David Pertrakis.I have never heard a more eloquent silence.

She says suicide is for cowards. This is an uglynasty Momside. She bought a book about it. Tough love. Sour sugar. Barbed velvet. Silent talk. She leaves the book on the back of the toilet to educate me. She has figured out that I don't say too much. It bugs her.

Me: All right, but you said we had to put emotion into our art. I don't know what that means. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel.

Precalculus was taught in dog whistle, a pitch too high to hear.

I was the reason she didn't run away freshman year. I was the reason she didn't eat a bottle of sleeping pills when her boyfriend cheated on her. I listened for hours when her parents yelled and tried to stuff her into a mannequin shell that didn't fit. I understood what triggered her earthquakes, most of them.

The difference between forgetting something and not remembering it is big enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through.

Then Ms. Conners blows her whistle to stop and explain the retarded scoring system in tennis where the numbers don't make sense and love doesn't count for anything.