Jay Asher Quotes - Page 4

And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were.

People grow apart, and sometimes, there nothing anyone can do about it.

That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.

Those are some strong currents you're swimming against.

I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.

I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.

But they were wrong. There was a reason.

The Golden Rule will always be good advice!

I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.

It's up to the reader to decipher the code, or the words, based on everything they know about life and emotions.

Everything about it was false. Right then, in that office, with the realization that no one knew the truth about my life, my thoughts about the world were shaken.

I want to collapse. I want to fall on the sidewalk right there and drag myself to the ivy.

And it feels strange, almost sad, to walk through ther empty halls. Each step I take sounds so lonely.

I didn't humiliate him by pointing it out because that's not how you treat friends. You don't judge them. You don't humiliate them. I bet he's been judging me all along.

What the hell happened to Pluto?!

I sat. And I thought. And the more I thought, connecting the events in my life, the more my heart collapsed.

I can't. You can't rewrite the past.

I could picture life—school and everything else—continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine who would attend or what they would say.

I take a slow sip of lukewarm coffee, reopen the book, and read the words scribbled in red ink near the top: Everyone needs an olly-olly-oxen-free.

How can you call it love when it hurt you so badly?" "It was love because it was worth it.

You told me I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating or accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror.

Then come to realize that you're making mountains out of molehills. Realize how petty you've become. Sure, it may feel like you can't get a grip on this town. It may seem that every time someone offers you a hand up, they just let go and you slip further down. But you must stop being so pessimistic, Hannah, and learn to trust those around you. So I do. One more time.

‎Because if I hadn't been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive.

And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.

A lot of you cared, just not enough.