I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share
I pushed my ragged mouth against the mirror. A thousand crushed bleeding lips pushed back at me... — 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 life stolen, made it easier not to care... -Wintergirls — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share
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
