1,161 Quotes by Lauren Oliver

The memories seem like snapshots from someone else’s life.

I let her stay a few feet ahead of me and try to memorize her exactly as she is: running, laughing, tan and happy and beautiful and mine; blond hair flashing in the last rays of sun like a torch, like a beacon of good things to come, and better days ahead for us both.

In books, secret worlds are accessible by doors or keys or other physical objects. But Lovelorn was not such a world, and appeared at whim and only when it felt like it, with a subtle change like the slow shifting of afternoon to evening.

All human eyes are useless. You see only what you expect to see, and nothing more; and what is the use of sight like that?

We didn’t get your name,” Julian says.The rat-man’s lips twitch into a smile. “I don’t have one,” he says.Julian looks startled. “Everyone has a name,” he says.“Not anymore,” the rat-man says with that twitchy smile. “Names don’t mean a thing anymore. The past is dead.

People, Caroline thought, were like houses. They could open their doors. You could walk through their rooms and touch the objects hidden in their corners. But something--the structure, the wiring, the invisible mechanism that kept the whole thing standing--remained invisible, suggested only by the fact of its existing at all.

People, Caroline thought, were like houses. They could open their doors. Your could walk through their rooms and touch the objects hidden in their corners. But something--the structure, the wiring, the invisible mechanism that kept the whole thing standing--remained invisible, suggested only by the fact of its existing at all.

I am scared about what Julian has to say, and what he will choose, and where he will go. But I am terrified by what I want: for him, and worst of all, from him.Because I do want. I’m not even sure what, exactly, but the want is there, just like the hate and anger were there before. But this is not a tower. It is an endless, tunneling pit; it drives deep, and opens a hole inside me.

Love : a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge.That’s what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.Before and after—and during, a moment no bigger or longer than an edge.