That was what her parents did not understand—and had never understood—about stories. Liza told herself storied as though she was weaving and knotting an endless rope. Then, no matter how dark or terrible the pit she found herself in, she… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
“My aunt Carol hasn’t heard her say a word in the whole six years and three months of Grace’s life—not a single syllable. Carol… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
We'll walk together holding hands, and kiss in broad daylight, and love each other as much as we want to, and no one will… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
“It seem absurd to me that they don't know, haven't felt any change or tremor, even as my life has been completely turned upside… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
“At least when I'm sleeping I can dream myself back to Alex, can dream myself into a different world.” — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
People are like ants: Just a few of them give all the orders. And most of them spend their lives getting squashed. — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
Summer explodes into Portland. In early June the heat was there but not the color--the green were still pale and tentative, the morning had… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
I wonder if it's ever really possible to know the truth about someone else, or if the best we can do is just stumble… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
“Julian is somewhere among those lights, in that blur of people and buildings. I wonder whether he's scared. I wonder whether he's thinking of… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
“She’s the kind of person who makes you feel drunk just by being around her, like suddenly the world’s edges are dulled and all… — Lauren Oliver Copy Share Image
