1,161 Quotes by Lauren Oliver

You can’t go home again” ─ isn’t necessarily that places change but people do.

But maybe you carried your demons with you everywhere, the way you carried your shadow.

What did Saturday's used to taste like? Like eggs and fried ham and the bitter smell of hair in heavy rollers. Like long quiet hours and making up after a fight. Like ointment and bruising. Like waiting, especially, for something - anything - to happen.

I can't stop thinking about what Caroline said to Minna about death. It isn't an infection, she said. She might be right. Then again, we've nested in the walls like bacteria. We've taken over the house, its insulation and its plumbing - we've made it our own. Or maybe it's life that's the infection: a feverish dream, a hallucination of feelings. Death is purification, a cleaning, a cure.

As soon as she sees me she swings forward and hits a key on her keyboard. The music cuts off instantly. Strangely, the silence that follows seems just as loud.

Perfection is a promise, and a reassurance that we are not wrong.

I don't know which is worse: that I'm home and so much is different, or that I'm home and so much feels the same.

...her answers are neat and deliberate, not frantically scribbled like you do when you don’t know what you’re talking about and are hoping if you scrawl enough your teacher won’t notice.

I put my forehead on his collarbone, place one hand on his chest. Its rhythm reassures me: He is real, and he is now.