Gayle Forman Quotes

I am adrenaline slammed into inertia: a fast car stuck in traffic.

But it's a big ocean. It's an even bigger world. And maybe we've gotten as close as we're supposed to get.

It's the same thing that happens when I turn off a really good movie - one that I've lost myself to - which is that I'll be thrown back to my own reality and something hollow will settle in my chest. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie all over again just to recapture that feeling of being inside something real. Which, I know, doesn't make any sense.

The politeness was painful. I wanted to push through it, to return to the glow of the night of the concert, but I was unsure of how to get back there.

You're just trying on different identities, like everyone in those Shakespeare plays. And the people we pretend at, they're already in us. That's why we pretend them in the first place.

The line between true self and feigned self is blurred on all sides. Which I think is a rather handy metaphor for falling in love.

First you inspect me Then you dissect me Then you reject me I wait for the day That you'll resurrect me "Animate

One day she told me that they'd decided that my gender was divvied into two neat piles-Men and Guys. Basically, all the saints of the world: Men. The jerks, the players, the wet T-shirt contest aficionados? They were Guys.

he kissed me hard. "Promise me. Promise me you'll spend New Year's with me next year," he whispered into my ear.

I know that all the magic kisses in the world probably couldn't have helped him today. But I would do anything to have been able to give him one.

I want to ask him where that kitchen is. Where he's from. But he seems guarded. Or maybe it's me. Maybe making friends is a specific skill, and I missed the lesson.

Losing me will hurt; it will be the kind of pain that won't feel real at first, and when it does, it will take her breath away.

Sometimes fate or life or whatever you want to call it, leaves a door a little open and you walk through it. But sometimes it locks the door and you have to find the key, or pick the lock, or knock the damn thing down. And sometimes, it doesn’t even show you the door, and you have to build it yourself.

Sometimes you can only feel something by its absence. By the empty spaces it leaves behind.

I'm not choosing, but I'm running out of fight.

Willem, I suspect deep down you know exactly why you're here, exactly what you want, but you're unwilling to the wanting, let alone the having. Because both of those propositions are terrifying.

In that twisted incestuous way of fate, Mia's a part of our history, and we're among the shards of her legacy.

You?' is all I can manage to choke out. 'Always me,' she replies softly, bashfully. 'Who else?

How is it possible that a boyfriend ceases to exist from one day to another?

That’s the thing you never expect about grieving, what a competition it is.

Why get stained when getting dirty is so much more fun

Even if you find him. Even if he didn't leave you on purpose, he can't possibly live up to the person you've built him into." It's not like the thought hasn't occurred to me. I get that the chances of finding him are small, but the chances of finding him as I remember him are even smaller. But I just keep going back to what my dad always says, about how when you lose something, you have to visualize the last place you had it. And I found―and then lost―so many things in Paris.

And this is the truth. Because I may be only eighteen, but it already seems pretty obvious that the world is divided into two groups: the doers and the watchers. The people things happen to and the rest of us, who just sort of plod on with things. The Lulus and the Allysons. It never occurred to me that by pretending to be Lulu, I might slip into that other column, even for just a day.

I understood all that in my head, but I still didn‟t believe it in my heart.

I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.

It doesn't rain every day. Just every other day.

When you make such a large withdrawal of happiness, somewhere you'll have to make an equally large deposit. It all goes back to the universal law of equilibrium.

Travelling is like a talent, like whistling or dancing. And some people have it.

And our lips. There isn't enough skin, enough spit, enough time, for the lost years that our lips are trying to make up for as they find each other. We kiss. The electric current switches to high. The lights throughout all of Brooklyn must be surging.

You don’t share me. You own me.

What is the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?

No one is who they pretend to be

I can keep picking small fights, or brave the big one. Time to screw my courage. Or go down trying.

I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.

You talked to me, but you didn’t. I could see you having these two-sided conversations. The things you wanted to say to me. And the words that actually came out.

Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. I don't know when exactly I started giving myself this daily pep talk--or why. It sounds like a twelve-step mantra and I'm not in Anything Anonymous, though to read some of the crap they write about me, you'd think I should be. I have the kind of life a lot of people would probably sell a kidney to just experience a bit of. But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I'll get through today.

Anything that kills hope is a sin

I force my eyes upward and look at Mia for the first time. She's still beautiful. Not in an obvious Vanessa LeGrande or Bryn Shraeder kind of way. In a quiet way that's always been devastating to me. Her hair, long and dark, is down now, swimming damply against her bare shoulders, which are still milky white and covered with the constellation of freckles that I used to kiss. The scar on her left shoulder, the one that used to be an angry red weld is silvery pink now. Almost like the latest rage in tattoo accessories. Almost pretty.

So let's hear another one of your irrational fears. Mia grasped me by the arms and pulled herself in to my chest, like she was burrowing her body into mine. "I'm scared of losing you," she said in the faintest of voices." I pushed her away so I could see her face and kissed the top of her forehead. "I said 'irrational' fears. Because that's not gonna happen.

We were both music-obsessed, each in our own way. If we didn't entirely understand the other person's obsession, it didn't matter, because we understood our own.

But seventeen is an inconvenient time to fall in love.

You just work through it. You just hang in there.

And something tells me if it matters, maybe it shouldn't be easy.

I don't really care. I shouldn't have to care. I shouldn't have to work this hard. I realize now that dying is easy. Living is hard.

I recognized that the kiss was a door I had walked through.

Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. “Are you hungry?”she asks. Am I ever.

He gives me a little shrug, like, of course, why else? And at this point, I really have no right to be surprised by people's capacity for kindness and generosity, but still, I am. I'm floored every time.

Are you happy in your misery? Resting peaceful in desolation? It’s the final tie that binds us The sole source of my consolation" “blue