Impulse (Impulse, #1)

by Ellen Hopkins

Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest.

Memory is a tenuous thing, like a rainbow’s end or a camera with a failing lens.

Does wanting to die equal losing your mind?

Did she have a clue that all those dollars spent on haute couture allowed her sweet young son to feed his appetite for carnal pleasure—to divvy

Maybe crazy is preferable to staying strong when you just want to break down and weep. But big boys don’t cry.

I cut to focus when my brain is racing. I cut to make physical what I feel inside. I cut to see blood because I like it. I don’t like to cut, but I can’t give it up.

My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.

“Forever has no meaning when you’re living in the moment. I wasn’t ready for that moment to end.”

Think how people must have loved each other when all they had was each other.

Love means holding on to someone just as hard as you can because if you don’t, one blink and they might disappear forever.