L > L's Quotes

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  • #1
    Sylvia Plath
    “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #2
    Ned Vizzini
    “Ski. Sled. Play basketball. Jog. Run. Run. Run. Run home. Run home and enjoy. Enjoy. Take these verbs and enjoy them. They're yours, Craig. You deserve them because you chose them. You could have left them all behind but you chose to stay here.
    So now live for real, Craig. Live. Live. Live. Live.
    Live.”
    Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

  • #3
    Alan             Moore
    “VI VERI VENIVERSUM VIVUS VICI.
    By the Power of Truth, I, while living, have Conquered the Universe.
    Alan Moore, V for Vendetta #2

  • #4
    Sylvia Plath
    “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #5
    Ned Vizzini
    “I'm smart but not enough--just smart enough to have problems.”
    Ned Vizzini, It's Kind of a Funny Story

  • #6
    John Green
    “What is the point of being alive if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?”
    John Green, An Abundance of Katherines

  • #7
    Sylvia Plath
    “because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #8
    “Just because your life isn't as awful as someone else's, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. You can't compare how you feel to the way other people feel. It just doesn't work. What might look like the perfect life -- or even an okay life -- to you might not be so okay for the person living it.”
    Michael Thomas Ford, Suicide Notes
    tags: life

  • #9
    Ellen Hopkins
    “Everyone's afraid of everybody else...maybe because we're all afraid of ourselves.”
    Ellen Hopkins, Impulse

  • #10
    “I'm still kind of a mess. But I think we all are. No one's got it all together. I don't think you ever do get it totally together. Probably if you did manage to do it you'd spontaneously combust. I think that's a law of nature. If you ever manage to become perfect, you have to die instantly before you ruin things for everyone else.”
    Michael Thomas Ford, Suicide Notes

  • #11
    Sarah Waters
    “Oh, but this,' I think I say, 'is perfect! This is all I have longed for! What are you gazing at? Do you suppose a girl is sitting here? That girl is lost! She has been drowned! She is lying, fathoms deep. Do you think she has arms and legs, with flesh and cloth upon them? Do you think she has hair? She has only bones, stripped white! She is as white as a page of paper! She is a book, from which the words have peeled and drifted--”
    Sarah Waters, Fingersmith

  • #12
    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 mother’s name
    just by the way you describe your bedroom
    when you were eight.

    See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate,
    and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.

    Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain
    or bounce in the bellies of snow?
    And if you were to build a snowman,
    would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms
    or would leave your snowman armless
    for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
    And if you would,
    would you notice how that tree weeps for you
    because your snowman has no arms to hug you
    every time you kiss him on the cheek?

    Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
    Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad
    even if it makes your lover mad?
    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 mother’s joy
    when she spoke it for the very first time.

    I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.
    Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.
    Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old
    beating up little boys at school.

    If you were walking by a chemical plant
    where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds
    would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud
    or would you whisper
    “That cloud looks like a fish,
    and that cloud looks like a fairy!”

    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?

    See, I wanna know if you believe in any god
    or if you believe in many gods
    or better yet
    what gods believe in you.
    And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself,
    have the prayers you asked come true?
    And if they didn’t, did you feel denied?
    And if you felt denied,
    denied by who?

    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 when you look in the mirror
    on a day you’re feeling bad.
    I wanna know the first person who 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?
    Would you think less of me
    if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key?
    And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry
    I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me
    who have learned the wisdom of silence.

    Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
    And if you do —
    I want you to tell me of a meadow
    where my skateboard will soar.

    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
    from 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
    ‘cause you’d never want it to stop.

    If a tree fell in the forest
    and you were the only one there to hear —
    if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound,
    would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist,
    or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?

    And lastly, let me ask you this:

    If you and I went for a walk
    and the entire walk, we didn’t talk —
    do you think eventually, we’d… kiss?

    No, wait.
    That’s asking too much —
    after all,
    this is only our first date.”
    Andrea Gibson



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