He had to fight. That's all he had. Not memories, not experiences, not skills. He had a will. And his will was to fight until he couldn't fight anymore.
If you didn't have a choice, you had to make a choice. If you didn't have options, you made some. You couldn't just let this world happen to you... he didn't see eternity. He saw this girl and this moment and this one slim chance.
What you leave behind is the people you loved. You leave yourself in them.
For some reason our lives were marked by summers. . . . Summer was the time when our lives joined completely, when we all had our birthdays, when really important things happened
There are going to be moments of deep, deep doubts, and you have to have faith that your initial idea was good and just muddle through.
Starting is hard so I really need to give myself permission to do a bad job. I always give myself leave to write total nonsense for as long as I need to release the pressure, because it's really hard to start if you feel like that first sentence you write has to actually mean something.
Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks- the traffic signal that said "Walk" the second you go there- and downticks- the itch tag at the back of your collar- that happened to every person in the course of the day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day.
As much as I'm drawn to writing about teenage girls, I like the idea of having the freedom to branch out and write about different ages, for different ages.
As a writer, you live in such isolation. It's hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.
Developing characters is a strange thing. In the beginning they are abstract and I wonder how to move on from there.
I allowed myself to suffer how jarringly destructive the present feels and how fragile the past.
I agree that a love of reading is a great gift for a parent to pass on to his or her child.
Grief was like a newborn, and the first three months were hard as hell, but by six months you'd recognized defeat, shifted your life around, and made room for it.
I dont really write with the idea of trying to teach any lessons. I want to tell a story as truthfully and engagingly as I can, and then let the chips fall where they may.
When there is nothing, there is the possibility of everything.
I love the idea of fictional worlds kind of all cohering in some way.
I love that blurry place where life’s transitions are made without you even knowing it.
A lot of friendship is about practice, that’s something I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older. It’s not simply some spiritual soul-bond of memories and longings, it’s really about having coffee every week, or talking on the phone every day or every other day - whatever suits you.
Age is not so much a feature of your character, as the spot where you stand for a pretty fleeting time on the arc of your life.
I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.
Love yourself and your friends unconditionally .
I don't have the life of a famous person. But I do feel like I've been able to connect with a lot of people.
A tree is such a rich metaphor in a million beautiful ways. You can consider a tree growing and consider its connectedness to all things above and under the ground.
It's so much easier to have no expectations than to have big ones.
How could you cleanse yourself if you couldn’t forget?
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