Quotes by Ally Condie

I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.

Do not go gentle. So I fight. I fight the only way I know how.

Sometimes paper is only paper, my mothers says. Words are just words. Ways to capture the real thing. Dont be afraid to remember that.I know what she means. Writing, painting, singing--it cannot stop everything. Cannot halt death in its tracks. But perhaps it can make the pause between deaths footsteps sound and look and feel beautiful, can make the space of waiting a place where you can linger without as much fear. For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey there between footsteps makes up our lives.

Shes right. We would compose poems about love and tell stories that have been heard in some form before. But it would be our first time feeling and telling.

Writing, painting, singing--it cannot stop everything. Cannot halt death in its tracks. But perhaps it can make the pause between deaths footsteps sound and look and feel beautiful, can make the space of waiting a place where you can linger without as much fear. For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey there between footsteps makes up our lives.

At first, thats who I was. I wanted to know more about this boy who lives among us, but who never truly speaks... But now I feel like finding out about him is one of the ways I found out about myself. I did not expect to love his words. I did no expect to find myself in the.

For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey between footsteps makes up our lives

They both have in common their conviction that they are still learning, still growing, when in fact they have long ago lost that ability.

I can trust in my parents love. And it strikes me that is a big thing to trust, a big thing to have had, no matter what else happens.

Sometimes you cant speak, not because others wont let you, but because you are afraid of what youll say.

Because I feel no anger toward my mother. Only loss, and loss is a feeling you can’t fight your way out of as easily.

You always have something left to lose. Until, of course, you die.

Nothing is really lost as long as you remember it

I draw in a ragged breath, the kind you take when the pain is too deep to cry, when you cant cry because all you are is pain, and if you let some of it out, you might cease to exist. I want to do something to make this better, even though I know that nothing can change the fact of my father gone and under ground.

It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.

Inside me are the real things that give me strength—my thoughts, the small stones of my own choosing. They tumble in my mind, some polished from frequent turning, some new and rough, some that cut.

The pain wants to eat me away. I wish I could have one without the other, but thats the problem with being alive. You dont usually get to choose the measure of suffering or the degree of joy you have.

We need you.Im sorry, but I cant let that keep me here anymore.

Ill go over again and again until Ive finally crossed to where he is

All of the things that were shown in early studies to be good for longevity—happy marriages, healthy bodies—are ours to have. We live long,good lives. We die on our eightieth birthdays, surrounded by our families, before dementia sets in. Cancer, heart disease, and most debilitatingillnesses are almost entirely eradicated. This is as close to perfect as any society has ever managed to get.