“In the spring of fifth grade, the boob fairy arrived with her wand and smacked Cassie wicked hard.” — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
I want to be in fifth grade again. Now, that is a deep dark secret, almost as big as the other one. Fifth grade was easy -- old enough to play outside without Mom, too young to go off the… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“The word ghost sounds like memory. The word therapy means exorcism” — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
Censorship is the child of fear and the father of ignorance. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“I have this halfway place, a rest stop on the road to sleep, where I can stay for hours. I don't even need to… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
I can see us, living in the woods, her wearing that A, me with a S maybe, S for silent, S for stupid, for… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
Eating plain toast will detonate her. "I'll have some honey." When the bread is done I scrape on a microscopic layer of it and… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
I am learning how to be angry and sad and lonely and joyful and excited and afraid and happy. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“Leaning against my father, the sadness finally broke open inside me, hollowing out my heart and leaving me bleeding. My feet felt rooted in… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
I doubt trees are ever told to 'be the screwed-up ninth-grader.' — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
I've dealt with depression my entire life, on and off, which makes me the perfect author for teenage readers. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“What did it feel like to die? Was it a peaceful sleep? Some thought it was full of either trumpet-blowing angels or angry devils.… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
