When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.
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Jodi Picoult
Jodi Lynn Picoult (/ˈdʒoʊdi piːˈkoʊ/; born May 19, 1966) is an American author. She was awarded the New England Bookseller Award for fiction in 2003. Picoult currently has approximately 14 million copies of her books translated into 34 launguages in print worldwide. 2Early life Picoult was born and raised in Nesconset on Long Island with her parents and one little brother; her family moved to New Hampshire when she was 13 years old. She has described her family as "non-practicing Jewish". Picoult wrote her first story at age five, entitled "The Lobster Which Misunderstood". Picoult's mother and grandmother were both teachers and says that their influence on her was very important . 2Education She studied creative writing at Princeton University with Mary Morris, and graduated in 1987. She published two short stories in Seventeen magazine while still in college. Immediately after graduation, she began a variety of jobs, ranging from editing textbooks to teaching eighth-grade Englis
I think you can love a person too much. You put someone up on a pedestal, and all of a sudden, from that perspective, you notice what’s wrong - a hair out of place, a run in a stocking, a broken bone. You spend all your time and energy making it right, and all the while, you are falling apart…
You can tell yourself that you would be willing to lose everything you have in order to get something you want. But it’s a catch-22: all of those things you’re willing to lose are what make you recognizable. Lose them, and you’ve lost yourself.
When someone leaves you once, you expect it to happen again. Eventually you stop getting close enough to people to let them become important to you, because then you don’t notice when they drop of your world.
When someone leaves you once, you expect it to happen again. Eventually you stop getting close enough to people to let them become important to you, because then you don’t notice when they drop of your world.
I wonder if, as you get older, you stop missing people so fiercely. Maybe growing up is just focusing on what you’ve got, instead of what you don’t.
I wonder if, as you get older, you stop missing people so fiercely. Maybe growing up is just focusing on what you’ve got, instead of what you don’t.
You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.
You don’t have to be awake to cry.
Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.
When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.
All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone else’s life would not have been as rich without us here.
What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.
People always say that, when you love someone, nothing in the world matters. But that’s not true, is it? You know, and I know, that when you love someone, everything in the world matters a little bit more.
I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you'd be disappointed.
You know how sometimes, your life is so perfect you’re afraid for the next moment, because it couldn’t possibly be quite as good? That’s what it felt like.
Things break all the time. Glass and dishes and fingernails. Cars and contracts and potato chips. You can break a record, a horse, a dollar. You can break the ice. There are coffee breaks and lunch breaks and prison breaks. Day breaks, waves break, voices break. Chains can be broken. So can silence,…
When it comes to memories, the good and the bad never balance.
There were lies we told to save ourselves, and then there were lies we told to rescue others. What counted more, the mistruth, or the greater good?