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  • #1
    John Green
    “I would never slay the dragon, because the dragon was also me.”
    John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

  • #2
    Michael Cunningham
    “Dear Leonard. To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Leonard. Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.”
    Michael Cunningham, The Hours

  • #3
    Paulo Coelho
    “But love is always new. Regardless of whether we love once, twice, or a dozen times in our life, we always face a brand-new situation. Love can consign us to hell or to paradise, but it always takes us somewhere. We simply have to accept it, because it is what nourishes our existence. If we reject it, we die of hunger, because we lack the courage to stretch out a hand and pluck the fruit from the branches of the tree of life. We have to take love where we find it, even if that means hours, days, weeks of disappointment and sadness.

    The moment we begin to seek love, love begins to seek us. And to save us.”
    Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

  • #4
    Jonathan Safran Foer
    “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.”
    Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

  • #5
    John Green
    “Life is a series of choices between wonders.”
    John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

  • #6
    Paulo Coelho
    “This was the kiss I had waited for so long - a kiss born by the river of our childhood, when we didn't yet know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air as we grew, that had traveled in the world in the souvenir of a medal, and that had remained hidden behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost and now was found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment and impossible dreams.”
    Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

  • #7
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “But then I have long since grown accustomed to the thought that what we call dreams is semi-reality, the promise of reality, a foreglimpse and a whiff of it; that is they contain, in a very vague, diluted state, more genuine reality than our vaunted waking life which, in its turn, is semi-sleep, an evil drowsiness into which penetrate in grotesque disguise the sounds and sights of the real world, flowing beyond the periphery of the mind—as when you hear during sleep a dreadful insidious tale because a branch is scraping on the pane, or see yourself sinking into snow because your blanket is sliding off.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading

  • #8
    J.D. Salinger
    “Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.”
    J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

  • #9
    J.D. Salinger
    “All I know is I’m losing my mind,” Franny said. “I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. It’s disgusting – it is, it is. I don’t care what anybody says.”
    J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

  • #10
    J.D. Salinger
    “The rest, with very little exaggeration, was books. Meant-to-be-picked-up books. Permanently-left-behind books. Uncertain-what-to-do-with books. But books, books. Tall cases lined three walls of the room, filled to and beyond capacity. The overflow had been piled in stacks on the floor. There was little space left for walking, and none whatever for pacing.”
    J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

  • #11
    Andrea Gibson
    “The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables.
    Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day
    I would be grounded, rooted.
    Said my head would not keep flying away
    to where the darkness lives.

    The psychic told me my heart carries too much weight.
    Said for twenty dollars she’d tell me what to do.
    I handed her the twenty. She said, “Stop worrying, darling.
    You will find a good man soon.”

    The first psycho therapist told me to spend
    three hours each day sitting in a dark closet
    with my eyes closed and ears plugged.
    I tried it once but couldn’t stop thinking
    about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet.

    The yogi told me to stretch everything but the truth.
    Said to focus on the out breath. Said everyone finds happiness
    when they care more about what they give
    than what they get.

    The pharmacist said, “Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.”

    The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me
    forget what the trauma said.

    The trauma said, “Don’t write these poems.
    Nobody wants to hear you cry
    about the grief inside your bones.”

    But my bones said, “Tyler Clementi jumped
    from the George Washington Bridge
    into the Hudson River convinced
    he was entirely alone.”

    My bones said, “Write the poems.”
    Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

  • #12
    Andrea Gibson
    “The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.
    Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.”
    Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

  • #13
    Andrea Gibson
    “I want you to tell me about every person you've ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn't think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mothers name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mothers joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you've been unkind. Tell me all the ways you've been cruel.Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? And for all the times you've knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you've asked come true? And if they didn't did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment, will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds. And if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon that if you wanted to you could pop—but you never would because you’d never want it to stop.”
    Andrea Gibson

  • #14
    Andrea Gibson
    “Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.”
    Andrea Gibson

  • #15
    Andrea Gibson
    “I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color,
    but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight.
    I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies
    and they were real close to looking like the sunrise,
    and sometime it takes the most wounded wings
    the most broken things
    to notice how strong the breeze is,
    how precious the flight.”
    Andrea Gibson

  • #16
    Andrea Gibson
    “My mouth is a fire escape.
    The words coming out
    don't care that they are naked.
    There is something burning in here.

    When it burns I hold my own shell to my ear,
    listen for the parade from when I was seven,

    when the man who played the bagpipes
    wore a skirt.
    He was from Scotland.
    I wanted to move there.

    Wanted my spine to be the spine
    of an unpublished book,
    my faith the first and last page.

    The day my ribcage became monkey bars
    for a girl hanging on my every word
    they said, "You are not allowed to love her."
    Tried to take me by the throat
    to teach me, "You are not a boy."

    I had to unlearn their prison speak,
    refusing to make wishes on the star
    on the sheriff's chest.

    I started taking to the stars in the sky instead.
    I said, "Tell me about the big bang."
    The stars said, "It hurts to become.”
    Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

  • #17
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “I am surrounded by some sort of wretched specters, not by people. They torment me as can torment only senseless visions, bad dreams, dregs of delirium, the drivel of nightmares and everything that passes down here for real life.”
    Vladimir Nabokov, Invitation to a Beheading

  • #18
    Jenny  Lawson
    “Even when everything’s going your way you can still be sad.”
    Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

  • #19
    Jenny  Lawson
    “What I want you to know: Dying is easy. Comedy is hard. Clinical depression is no fucking picnic.”
    Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

  • #20
    Jenny  Lawson
    “Sometimes being crazy is a demon. And sometimes the demon is me. And I visit quiet sidewalks and loud parties and dark movies, and a small demon looks out at the world with me. Sometimes it sleeps. Sometimes it plays. Sometimes it laughs with me. Sometimes it tries to kill me. But it’s always with me. I suppose we’re all possessed in some way. Some of us with dependence on pills or wine. Others through sex or gambling. Some of us through self-destruction or anger or fear. And some of us just carry around our tiny demon as he wreaks havoc in our mind, tearing open old dusty trunks of bad memories and leaving the remnants spread everywhere. Wearing the skins of people we’ve hurt. Wearing the skins of people we’ve loved. And sometimes, when it’s worst, wearing our skins.”
    Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

  • #21
    Roxane Gay
    “This is what most girls are taught—that we should be slender and small. We should not take up space. We should be seen and not heard, and if we are seen, we should be pleasing to men, acceptable to society. And most women know this, that we are supposed to disappear, but it’s something that needs to be said, loudly, over and over again, so that we can resist surrendering to what is expected of us.”
    Roxane Gay, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body

  • #22
    Roxane Gay
    “Losing control of my body was a matter of accretion. I began eating to change my body. I was willful in this. Some boys had destroyed me, and I barely survived it. I knew I wouldn't be able to endure another such violation, and so I ate because I thought that if my body became repulsive, I could keep men away. Even at that young age, I understood that to be fat was to be undesirable to men, to be beneath their contempt, and I already knew too much about their contempt. This is what most girls are taught--that we should be slender and small. We should not take up space. We should be seen and not heard, and if we are seen, we should be pleasing to men, acceptable to society. And most women know this, that we are supposed to disappear, but it's something that needs to be said, loudly, over and over again, so that we can resist surrendering to what is expected of us.”
    Roxane Gay, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body

  • #23
    Roxane Gay
    “I learned how to live in my head, where I could ignore the world that refused to accept me,”
    Roxane Gay, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body

  • #24
    Jenny  Lawson
    “When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate. Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive. We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker … but as survivors. Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it. Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand. I hope to one day see a sea of people all wearing silver ribbons as a sign that they understand the secret battle, and as a celebration of the victories made each day as we individually pull ourselves up out of our foxholes to see our scars heal, and to remember what the sun looks like.”
    Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

  • #25
    Jenny  Lawson
    “To all who walk the dark path, and to those who walk in the sunshine but hold out a hand in the darkness to travel beside us: Brighter days are coming. Clearer sight will arrive. And you will arrive too. No, it might not be forever. The bright moments might be for a few days at a time, but hold on for those days. Those days are worth the dark.”
    Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

  • #26
    Roxane Gay
    “A different day has come, though. I flinch less and less when I am touched. I don’t always see gentleness as the calm before the storm because, more often than not, I can trust that no storm is coming. I harbor less hatred toward myself. I try to forgive myself for my trespasses.”
    Roxane Gay, Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body

  • #27
    Laurie Halse Anderson
    “Eve ate the apple
    because Adam
    was afraid”
    Laurie Halse Anderson, Shout
    tags: adam, eve, fear

  • #28
    Wendelin Van Draanen
    “Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss...." He turned to me. "But every once in a while, you find someone who's iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.”
    Wendelin Van Draanen, Flipped

  • #29
    Sally Rooney
    “It was culture as class performance, literature fetishised for its ability to take educated people on false emotional journeys, so that they might afterwards feel superior to the uneducated people whose emotional journeys they liked to read about.”
    Sally Rooney, Normal People

  • #30
    Sally Rooney
    “No one can be independent of other people completely, so why not give up the attempt, she thought, go running in the other direction, depend on people for everything, allow them to depend on you, why not.”
    Sally Rooney, Normal People



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