Jenny Han Quotes

It’s hard to throw away history. It was like you were throwing away a part of yourself.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.

He didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

But just because you bury something, that doesn't mean it stops existing. Those feelings, they'd been there all along. All that time. I had to face it.

If you were mine, I would never have broken up with you, not in a million years.

Moments, when lost, can't be found again. They're just gone.

But the little things are what make up life

You can't put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren't.

Victory is a thousand times sweeter when you're the underdog.

I need you to know that no matter what happens, it was worth it to me. Being with you, loving you. It was all worth it

Looking on the bright side of life never killed anybody.

How do you regret one of the best nights of your entire life? You don't. You remember every word, every look. Even when it hurts, you still remember.

Here's something else, something important: Love is not transactional. It is not a bank account, you don't always get what you put in. Sometimes you put in so much and get very little return on your investment, at least that you can see right away.

For me there was-is-nothing better than walking on the beach late at night. It feels like you could walk forever, like the whole night is yours and so is the ocean. When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life. In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.

Do you know what it's like to like someone so much you can't stand it and know that they'll never feel the same way

When you walk on the beach at night, you can say things you can't say in real life.

Things couldn't stay the same forever.

That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them you cared. And he just didn't. Not enough.

Firsts are best because they are beginnings

If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms.

We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything.

Would you rather live one perfect day over and over or live your life with no perfect days but just decent ones?

I wonder what it's like to have that much power over a boy. I don't think I'd want it - it's a lot of responsibility to hold a person's heart in your hands.

When it's finals week and you've been studying for five hours straight, you need three things to get you through the nigh.The biggest Slurpee you can find,half cherry half Coke.Pajama pants, the kind that have been washed so many times they are tissue-paper thin. And finally,dace breaks.Lots of dance breaks.

It feels strange to have spent much time wishing for something, for someone and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. a burn for a burn. a life for a life. that's how all this got started. and that's how it's going to end.

When someone's been gone a long time, at first you save up all the things you want to tell them. You try to keep track of everything in your head. But it's like trying to hold on to a fistful of sand: all the little bits slip out of your hands, and then you're just clutching air and grit.

In the dark you can feel really close to a person. You can say whatever you want.

You never know the last time you’ll see a place. A person.

It's scary how easy promises were broken.

Love is scary: it changes; it can go away. That's the part of the risk. I don't want to be scared anymore.

Everything in my room was old and faded, but I loved that about it. It felt like there might be secrets in the walls, in the four-poster bed, especially in that music box.

Seventeen's not so young. A hundred years ago people got married when they were practically our age." "Yeah, that was before electricity and the Internet. A hundred years ago eighteen-year-old guys were out there fighting wars with bayonets and holding a man's life in their hands! They lived a lot of life by the time they were our age. What do kids our age know about love and life?

There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradualy waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There was no mistaking that it had been love.

I loved him in a way that you can really only do the first time around. It's the kind of love that doesn't know better and doesn't want to-it's dizzy and foolish and fierce. That kind of love is really a one-time-only thing.

You'd rather make up a fantasy version of somebody in your head than be with a real person.

I've always loved the first day of school better than the last day of school. Firsts are best because they are beginnings.

There are moments in life that you wish with all your heart you could take back. Like, just erase from existence. Like, if you could, you'd erase yourself right out of existence too, just to make that moment not exist.

There's no use in asking what if. No one could ever give you the answers.

I knew it in my bones. That this time was it. I had finally made my choice, and so had he. He let me go. I was relieved, which I expected. What I didn't expect was to feel so much grief.

Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August. Winters are simply a time to count the weeks until the next summer

Happiness is a Slurpee and a hot pink straw.

When a person you love dies, it doesn’t feel real. It’s like it’s happening to someone else. It’s someone else’s life. I’ve never been good with the abstract. What does it mean when someone is really truly gone?

I didn't want to make the same mistake my parents made. I didn't want my love to fade away one day like an old scar. I wanted it to burn forever.

Sometimes questions can be more cruel than insults.

Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.

I release you. I evict you from my heart. Because if I don't do it now, I never will.

I will never look at you in the same way ever again. I'll never be that girl again. The girl who comes running back every time you push her away, the girl who loves you anyway.