Elizabeth Scott Quotations

I liked him first, but it doesn't matter. I still like him. That doesn't matter either. Or at least, it's not supposed to.

I don't know how I know that, but I do. I can feel the beat of that truth inside me. Taste it bitter on my tongue. Sometimes, like now, I didn't think I want to know who I really am.

He's looking at me as if the whole world waits for my next breath, with an intensity that makes my heart pound and my palms sweat and then he smiles, a sweet curve of his mouth, and my breath catches, but then I freeze because there is something about it, something beyond it that I know, that makes my mind go blank with fear and pain.

And now I see what has been there all along, what I've noticed but never truly understood until now. Eli is as uncertain as I am, as we all are. Life has surprised him like it has me. Has hurt him like it has me.

Because I-I'm someone who wants to kiss you. Be with you." Eli says as if it is obvious, as if I know what is written on his heart.

I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I have always thought I am.

Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy. Being happy makes you want to talk, to go over everything, to share it so you can remember it all over again.

Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.

My name is Danielle. I'm eighteen. I've been stealing things for as long as I can remember

I lied to Julia, I didn't know what else to do because you - you make me feel..." I had to stop. Not because I didn't have words. I did. But I was afraid to say them. He looked at me, and I knew then I could love him. That if I let myself I would. "You make me feel too," he said, and held out one hand.

I don't eat bread.' Is she pouting? It's hard to tell. She's had a lot of chemicals injected into her face.

Talking about someone who makes you happy actually makes you happy.

But I know a lie when I hear one.

it´s just...today has really sucked, and when you´re around stuff doesn´t seem so crappy - Will

School is just like having a job. You have to show up, you have to do your work, and you have to be around tons of idiots or mean people. Now that I think about it, it's worse than having a job. At least there you get paid.

Anger can try to break your heart, but sorrow is what will. What can. What does.

There's no good way to die, you know? No way I've seen, anyway. It all ends with tubes and bedpans and IVs and I just-- smoking gets me out of there. Gets me outside, gets me away from all the--" "Sick people?" I say, and she shakes her head. "Away from my life.

I love the me I am with him. I’m the girl who has Dave. I’m Lauren, Dave’s girlfriend. I’m someone better than Lauren Smith, who no one noticed till Dave came along. The thing is, that girl isn’t me and I know it. But when I’m with him, I feel like I could be her. That if something in me was just–I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

I think...I think sometimes that's how it is. Sometimes people have to go before you get stuff. Before you can really get it.

I'd dressed up and hoped and I was so tired of doing that, so tired of dreaming and being unable to stop it despite the fact that I'd seen, maybe better than anyone here, what dreams could do to you.

Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.

Please. If you were mostly dead in the middle of the road I'd obviously stop. And then I'd watch you die." Kate to Will

Then I heard someone laugh. I wished I didn't know whose laugh it was, but I knew Will's laugh just like I knew he had a small scar right above his left elbow. You couldn't be reluctantly lust-ridden for someone without noticing stuff about them.

I think you’re the saddest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re drowning in it.

He looks trapped, helpless and furious, and that’s a feeling I know too well. Know how much it hurts. Know how it holds you down, how every day there are a thousand little ways to see there is nothing you can do to change who or what you are.

Sometimes being me is very confusing.

I always wanted to be grown up. When I was little I couldn’t wait to be a teenager and go to high school. When I got there I wanted to be done with it, wanted to get out into the world, the real one, and live in it. The thing is, that world doesn’t exist. All growing up means is that you realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.

I didn't feel anything watching him go. I didn't even wish I did.

I never went for the talkers.

You're right . . . you can't go back. No matter how much you want to, you never can

You know who you are you just have to believe it.

What had been became what was and a story only works when you know the ending. When the people in it don’t seem like pretend. When you can think about that girl and how she was once upon a time, and see her. When you don’t already know the story is a lie.

So, you're telling me that no matter what, you can't be happy? Well, darling, it's no wonder you're miserable. It's what you want...So then try (to be happy).

I suppose he's making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.

The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does, and all the wishing in the world for the way things were, or for what they could have been, won't change that. It won't change how things are.

Look at me. We aren´t them lauren. You´re not your mother or father any more than I´m my mother. You´re you and I´m me and I love you.

I wish it had never happened because then I wouldn't think about it as I'm falling asleep.

..."Are you okay?" he says, still looking at me, and I feel my smile slip, fade, and the silence that falls over us then is so total I can’t hear anything, not the rush-hiss of my heart pounding in my chest, not the sounds all around us; insects, wind, and the distant clatter of others’ lives in houses built close but not too close because when we look out our windows we all like to pretend that everything we see is ours. But Ryan is not mine.

I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

The story of my life can be told in silver: in chocolate mills, serving spoons, and services for twelve. The story of my life has nothing to do with me. The story of my life is things. Things that aren’t mine, that won’t ever be mine. It’s all I’ve ever known. I wish it wasn’t.

I see what grief does, how it strips you bare, shows you all the things you don't want to know. That loss doesn't end, that there isn't a moment where you are done, when you can neatly put it away and move on.

I felt nothing all the time, and it had started to feel normal. It should have scared me, but it didn't.

The heart is a place with worm holes made by feelings you aren't supposed to have but do.

That's you, right?' he asks me. 'Yeah.' 'Cute. Not that I, uh, think little kids are cute. Just that you were cute. I mean, you can see how you turned out to be so...oh.

Darling, the world doesn't owe you anything.

I think love is huge, overwhelming. I think it's terrible and beautiful.

I heard how people sounded when their dreams were shattered, when their lives were turned into a waking nightmare.

I'll always remember taking your hand and telling you that everything would be okay.

Just once, I wanted to lose something without the whole world watching.

Wherever I go, I'll always see you. You'll always be with me. And there's no happy ending coming here, no way a story that started on a night that's burned into my heart will end the way I wish it could. You're really gone, no last words, and no matter how many letters I write to you, you're never going to reply. You're never going to say good-bye. So I will. Good-bye, Julia. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being you.

Josh pulls me aside. "Hey, About before, I just... I wanted to say ... well, I think you're pretty special." He says, kind of stumbling over the words a little. Like he's hesitant to say them, now i wish he'd hug me again. And then kiss me. But he doesn't. He just waves and walks off. I sigh. "Hannah, I just... I want you to know if I pause alot when I tell you how special you are I want you to think that I'm... very... very... deep," Finn says

Grace is my favourite church word. A state of being. Something you can pray for. Something God can grant. Something you can obtain. Perfection is out of reach. But grace -- grace you can reach for.

My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.

This is the real unwritten rule: You don't want what you know you shouldn't. And I haven't just broken that rule. I have wrecked it, smashed it, and still... And still I want.

This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple is is, and how amazing.

I thought living dead girls couldn't feel pain, thought I was emptied out but I'm not, I'm not.

Check it out. I got a new name tag today." He unclipped it and held it out toward me. I looked at it. "A. GUY." He grinned. "Someone actually asked me what the A stood for," he said, his hand brushing mine as he took the tag back, sliding it into his pocket. "I said Larry.

Hope was supposed to be a good thing, but it was starting to feel like every other four-letter word you're not supposed to say.

I knew I was having a panic attack. I hadn't had one in a while, though, and I'd forgotton how they made everything like it- and I- was going to fall apart. How they reminded me of how trapped I was.

You ready?" Evan asks, and he's looking at me, and I love his hair, I love his smile, I lo--"I Love You," I say, and as I watch his smile bloom I finally get how great those three little words are. I finally get what they really mean.

I think the way I feel when I look at Evan comes from her. In pictures taken the day she married my dad, she was reckless, laughing, spinning around in circles. She looked like her whole world was him. She looked a kind of happy I can't even imagine. I don't want that. I don't want to be like that. I don' want to feel the way she did because I know what happens when you do. You love with your whole heart, with everything, and you wake up one morning and kiss someone good-bye the way you always do except you mean it as good-bye forever.

Cute" is one of those words people use when they know you're smart enough to realize "you've got so much personality" means "you're ugly.

I didn't want it to be one good memory that led to a lot of bad ones. I wanted it to stay what it was, one amazing moment, something that was strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Something I could remember without any pain. - Kate

the thing is you can get used to anything you think you cant you want to die but you dont you cant you just are

Once upon a time, I did not live in Shady Pines. Once upon a time, my name was not Alice. Once upon a time, I didn't know how lucky I was.

Little Alice, all hollowed out, so easy to smash into a million little pieces.

I told you we were meant to be," he says, still smiling, still so Finn, who was always here but who I just didn't see and now-- Well, now I kiss him.

I've been taught that love is beautiful and kind, but it isn't like that at all. It is beautiful, but it's a terrible beauty, a ruthless one, and you fall-you fall, and the thing is- The thing is you want to. You don't care what's coming you just want who your heart beats for.

I'm so not interesting in having to try and make something out of foil." What, you didn't like the poncho with wraparound leggings?" It was beyond hideou- wait a minute. You watch that show?" My mom loves it." But your suppose to be sulking in the basement getting ready to light fires." What can I say? I'm a failure as a teenager. I watch TV with my mom.

Vitamins ruined my life. Not that there was much left to ruin, but still. I know that blaming vitamins for my horrible life sounds strange. After all, vitamins are supposed to keep people healthy. Also, they're inanimate objects. But thanks to them I was stuck in the Jackson Center Mall watching my father run around in a bee costume.

Kate, don't be like that. You know I only did so well because I yearn-see, SAT word- to follow you to college and steal your heart." "Uh-huh. Too bad for you I don't plan on attending clown college." He grinned. "Only you would ignore the incredibly sweet thing I just said." "Only you would describe one of your asinine comments as incredibly sweet.

I know who I want to be with, and it isn't her. - Ryan

I wants us to be real. I want to be just you and me. - Ryan

My father looked like he was having a stroke— not that Mel seemed to notice because he just kept talking. “Patrick needs a ride. No car, you know, and so I figured, hey, I can pick up some gas money.” He laughed. No one else did, and now Patrick looked like he was trying to push himself inside the door and hide.

I have been smashed and put back together so many times nothing works right. Nothing is where it should be, heavy thumping in my shoulder where my heart now beats.

I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t think he’d ever really notice me, and in the end, he didn’t.

Something in me, in my bruised heart, wakes up, and even though I'm terrified, I don't push the feeling away.

All the things I've thought about love are true. It's beautiful and terrible and it doesn't make things perfect. It ends things, and it brings beginnings. This is mine.

Three life lessons: 1.No one will see you. 2.No one will say anything. 3.No one will save you.

She looked at me for real and saw I was serious. She saw I knew she was for me like you know that tomorrow morning the sun will rise.

Well as much as I'm sure the people next door who are pretending they aren't looking at me would like to hear what I have to say, I'd rather say it to just you.

I-I don't usually go around throwing rocks at people's windows. Or saying that I've wanted to kiss you since your first day at work, when you wanted to know why we had three codes for fish sandwiches when we only sold one kind.

It's bullshit. It's so easy to label people, to look at a list of symptoms and say, "This is who you are. This is what you are.

Are you reading?" I say. It's not that I don't think Finn can read or anything, but it's just - well, not what I expected to see. I figured Finn spent his time doing whatever it is guys who aren't Josh do when they aren't in school. Burping, or something. "Try not to look so surprised," Finn says. "I read. I can count to ten. Sometimes I can even spell my own name.

How come you like Josh so much anyway? All he does is sit around drinking overpriced coffee and bitching about how awful things are" "He cares about the world." "If he cared about the world, he'd donate the ten thousand dollars he must spend on coffee every year to charity. That would be doing something.

Do you really think he was flirting with me?" "Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs..." He looks at the CD. "All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.

I don’t think I could have picked a worse guy to be my soul mate.

Okay, I guess you can come in." "Um, Hannah, you have to, you know, open the front door so I can actually come in." "I thought you were going to - you're standing under my window. Aren't you supposed to climb up here or something?" "My ladder's at home. Also, you call throwing rocks at your window clichéd?

I want to care, but I don't. I look at you and all I feel is tired. I walk through school and all I want to do is leave. I wake up in the morning and don't know why I'm here. I feel like I'm not real.

And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

It could be enough, maybe, or at least a start, but the problem is that at night I tumble into dreams that aren't dreams at all. I tumble into memories and wake up aching for a dying world and a quiet, cold life that offered me nothing but sitting in a still room.

And yet here I am. Broken and bleeding on the inside, heartsick, I am here.

Whatever happened to me just now has gotten to me, broken past the fragile shell I've built. More than my memory is gone. My soul has wings that beat to a heart I don't understand and I see things, feel things that I know aren't from here, but that are so real.

I deserved the shaking and the headaches and the fact that every single time I took a breath I felt a squeezing in my chest, my heart beating even though I wished it wasn't.

The thing is, that world doesn't exist. All growing up means is that your realize no one will come along to fix things. No one will come along to save you.

There are a million rules for being a girl. There are a million things you have to do to get through each day. High school has things that can trip you up, ruin you, people say one thing and mean another, and you have to know all the rules, you have to know what you can and can't do.

It was like we were all so busy trying to be happy or saying we were happy, but underneath there was nothing but bitterness, the kind that could only be bled out in ink, in unspoken word.

Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.

My full name is Lauren Lee Smith. Of all the names I could have been given, that's the one I got. Lauren Lee Smith. It has all the personality of a toaster.

...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.