The alchemist was dazed and dumbfounded, as the true meaning of the magic was revealed: *The dead will rise from glade to glen and ancient will be young again*. The dead had, after all, risen. From dead and dry things there was growth, and new life everywhere. And the endlessly long winter had at last turned to spring. From life to death and back again to life. It was indeed the greatest magic in the world.
Lauren OliverSuicide. A sideways word, a word that people whisper and mutter and cough: a word that must be squeezed out behind cupped palms or murmured behind closed doors. It was only in dreams that I heard the word shouted, screamed.
Lauren OliverBoth of us will die today, gunned down or smashed up or exploded in some terrible moment of fire and twisted metal, and when they go to bury us we'll be so melted together and entwined they won't be able to separate the bodies; pieces of him will go with me, and pieces of me will go with him.
Lauren OliverLet me tell you something about dying: it's not as bad as they says. it's the coming-back-to-life part that hurts.
Lauren OliverThings would get difficult again. But that was okay too. The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what.
Lauren OliverAs soon as I look up, his eyes click onto my face. The breath whooshes out of my body and everything freezes for a second, as though Iām looking at him through my camera lens, zoomed in all the way, the world pausing for that tiny span of time between the opening and closing of the shutter.
Lauren Oliver