I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
She offered herself to the big, bad wolf and didn't scream when he took the first bite. — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
The bathroom door swings open. Emma sees the blood painting my skin and the red rivers carved on my body. Emma sees… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the… — Laurie Halse Anderson Copy Share Image
“Shards of glass slip down the wall and into the sink. IT pulls away from me, puzzled. I reach in and wrap… — 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
