“How can you call it love when it hurt you so badly?"
"It was love because it was worth it.”
“When the right moment appears, the key is to not let it pass.”
“I've always protected myself when it comes to love. And maybe that's the problem. By not letting myself get hurt now, it ripples into much bigger pain later.”
“If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.”
“Why does it say she has three hundred and twenty friends?" Josh asks. "Who has that many friends?”
“They were like two magnets who couldn't decide whether to attract or repel.”
“What the hell happened to Pluto?!”
“People grow apart, and sometimes, there nothing anyone can do about it.”
“Rejection always hurts, but having it come from my best friend was the worst.”
“You need to figure out what you want, Josh. If that means you need to swim against the tide to get it, at least youre aiming for something that could make you very happy.”
“Yes, it feels great to plan your life when you believe everything can turn out fine. But what about when you're shown, again and again, how little control you have over anything? No matter what I do to try to fix my future, it doesn't work.”
“Emma:“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when he
hurt you so badly?”
Kellan:“It was love
because it was worth it.”
“I don't know exactly what it is, but it looks like interconnected websites where people show their photos and write about everything going on in their lives, like whether they found a parking spot or what they ate for breakfast."
"But why?" Josh asks.”
“One little ripple started today could create a typhoon fifteen years from now.”
“You know how I feel about love. It was invented to sell wedding cakes. And vacations to Waikiki.”
“Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.”
“Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It's crazy!”
“And here he is again, yet things feel like they'll never be as easy between us as they once were.”
“I swear, guys in groups are capable of the stupidest things."
"Like war," Kellan says, heaping napkins and ketchup packets onto her tray.
"And jumping off rooftops."
"And lighting their farts on fire," she says.”
“Josh turns to me. “I can’t believe she’s writing these things.” “Not she,” I say. “Me.” “Why would anyone say this stuff about themselves on the Internet? It’s crazy!” “Exactly,” I say. “I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.”
“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.”
“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.”
“Trust me, not every girl would give up his sweatshirt just because a girl asks.”
“Those are some strong currents you're swimming against.”
“There are also the people too bizarre to ignore, like Kyle Simpson. Future male stripper.”
“I tried getting my dad to buy me a beeper for my birthday,” he says, “but he thinks only doctors and drug dealers need them.”
“With her fingers running back up my arms, and all this sperm talk, things are getting a little too intense down below. I lean slightly forward, conveniently placing my forearms across my lap.”
“She smiles and hugs him goodbye, her hand lingering on the small of his back. They are definitely going to have sex.”
“Good for her, I guess. Cody's a conceited dick, but whatever makes her happy.”
“As she does, she turns her hand over, lacing her fingers into mine. For as many nerve endings as I thought I had in my hand, I now realize there are a hundred times more.”
“Making these choices [to attend school instead of skipping], as it turned out, wasn't about willpower. I always admired people who “willed” themselves to do something, because I have never felt I was one of them. If sheer will were enough by itself, it would have been enough a long time ago, back on University Avenue, I figured. It wasn't, not for me anyway. Instead, I needed something to motivate me. I needed a few things that I could think about in my moments of weakness that would cause me to throw off the blanket and walk through the front door. More than will, I needed something to inspire me.
One thing that helped was a picture I kept in mind, this image that I used over and over whenever I was faced with these daily choices. I pictured a runner running on a racetrack. The image was set in the summertime and the racetrack was a reddish orange, divided in white racing stripes to flag the runners’ columns. Only, the runner in my mental image did not run alongside others; she ran solo, with no one watching her. And she did not run a free and clear track, she ran one that required her to jump numerous hurdles, which made her break into a heavy sweat under the sun. I used this image every time I thought of things that frustrated me: the heavy books, my crazy sleep schedule, the question of where I would sleep and what I would eat. To overcome these issues I pictured my runner bolting down the track, jumping hurdles toward the finish line.
Hunger, hurdle. Finding sleep, hurdle, schoolwork, hurdle. If I closed my eyes I could see the runner’s back, the movement of her sinewy muscles, glistening with sweat, bounding over the hurdles, one by one. On mornings when I did not want to get out of bed, I saw another hurdle to leap over. This way, obstacles became a natural part of the course, an indication that I was right where I needed to be, running the track, which was entirely different from letting obstacles make me believe I was off it. On a racing track, why wouldn't there be hurdles? With this picture in mind—using the hurdles to leap forward toward my diploma—I shrugged the blanket off, went through the door, and got myself to school.”
“My friendships have a certain symmetry at the moment: Alice is always asking me what she should do, and Nancy is always telling me what I should do.”
“If I told you, you'd only know it in your mind, not in your heart. There's a big difference.”
“The love she felt for Rob now was a burning tenderness, a knowledge that he was the one who'd taught he it was POSSIBLE to love, who had melted the ice of her heart. it was strong and gentile and steady, full of admiration and the intimacy of shared likes and dislikes. it was golden and warm like a summer afternoon.”
“What the hell is that?"
I jumped and glanced over to see Kristof staring at Grady, who was waving his arms, rolling his eyes, shaking and moaning.
"I think he's possessed," I said.
"By what? Epilepsy?”
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