He was a super shiny boy and I liked the shape of him. Under the blanket. In the shower. I liked his shadow on the street and his imprint on the sofa. I hated the smell of hair gel on… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
There is a blessing in losing the one we love. It's the blessing of self-transformation. You don't have to who you were anymore. You've struggled. And now you can change. It doesn't mean that bits of that person won't cling… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine. — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
I think it's sort of the hypothetical point where communism and fascism meet. They love tragedy, and they love surface beauty. You just watch… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
I do think everything that happens in American pop culture sort of prescribes for England and does end up happening there six months later,… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
What people don't understand when you've already been a suicide and pulled through is that after the sadness comes fear: Where is my mind… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
I wish I had been less keen to inject my own opinions, but I was a teenager and your teenage self is generally an… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
“When he asked if he was mine, tears in his eyes, I think he knew what he would do, what he would have to… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
I want you to stay. I never want there to be a time when we don't share space. — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
In other words, it was a struggle with himself. And the product of that struggle: anger, bitterness, resentment, envy or transformation, aspiration, hope, decency..the… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
“I don't want to go to university. I don't like unity and I hate verses. I just love the choruses of songs. ” — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
I enjoy films where two characters are coming of age, just different ages. That's why I love 'Paper Moon' so much. — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
He was only twenty-five.He was young enough to miss his youth just as it was slipping away. The worst kind of loss-the one that… — Emma Forrest Copy Share Image
