Nonfiction speaks to the head. Fiction speaks to the heart. Poetry speaks to the soul. It's the essence of beauty. The essence of pain. It pleases the eye and the ear. — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
“I've been alone since my mom met Scott. He sucked the nectar from her heart like a famished butterfly. No nurture, no nourishment left… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
I wonder how long it would take him to realize I'm right as sin - it's the rest of the world that's wrong. I'm… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
Do you know how beautiful you are?' I shook my head 'I'm not. But you make me fell like I am.' I wanted to… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
That's what I'll be. A silhouette, rarely seen, and yet believed in. — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
One foot in front of the other, counting tiles on the floor so I don't have to focus the blur of painted smiles, fake… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
...life is all about chances. You might be safer not taking any. But playing it totally safe means you're only existing. Not living. I… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
The truth is, I don't have a real clue what love is - how to find it, how to give it. Once upon a… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
But death doesn't scare me. To know exactly when I might expect it, up close and in my face, would actually be a comfort.… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
So You Want to Know All about her. Who she really is. (Was?) Why she swerved off the high road. Hard left to nowhere,… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
“I don’t belong here. I know that. But I don’t belong anywhere else, either. And that is at the heart of the black depression… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
Six months since we met up again we are inseparable, an intricate weave. No longer do I believe this is a temporary fling. More… — Ellen Hopkins Copy Share Image
