Quotes by Carol Rifka Brunt

Maybe I was destined to forever fall in love with people I couldn’t have. Maybe there’s a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for me to find them. Waiting to make me feel the same impossibility over and over again.

Nothing had changed. I was the stupid one again. I was the girl who never understood who she was to people.

I need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.

You know, Junie, youre fourteen now. I think you can certainly manage to put together a sandwich. ...The thing is, if my mother had any idea what I had in my backpack, she would have made me that sandwich. If she knew that Id searched and searched the house until I finally found the little key to the fireproof box buried in the bottom of her underwear drawer, if she knew that Id unlocked the box and taken my passport out, that I had it with me right that very second in a Ziploc bag in the bottom of my backpack, if she knew why I had it there, if she knew even a bit of all that, she might have made me that PBJ. She wouldnt have said, Youre fourteen now, like she thought I was some kind of responsible adult. No. If she knew about my plan, she would have said, youre only fourteen. She would have told me that I was crazy to think about going to England with I was only fourteen.

Thats the difference between you and Greta. She has better things to do. She gets involved in clubs, activities. She has friends. But you? You slump around in that room of yours--

I used to think maybe I wanted to become a falconer, and now Im sure of it, because I need to figure out the secret. I need to work out how to keep things flying back to me instead of always flying away.

You could try to believe what you wanted, but it never worked. Your brain and your heart decided what you were going to believe and that was that. Whether you liked it or not.

I like the word clandestine. It feels medieval. Sometimes I think of words as being alive. If clandestine were alive, it would be a pale little girl with hair the color of fall leaves and a dress as white as the moon.

Its the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they havent done everything they want to do. They think they havent had enough time. They feel theyve been shortchanged.

I suppose Im in that very small group of people who are not waiting for their own story to unfold. If my life was a film, Id have walked out by now.

But you dont know what it was like. It was just the two of us that afternoon, and then . . . and then it was just me.

When people mentioned it to me, they thought they were talking about some casual relative of mine. For most people thats what an uncle was. They had no idea how I felt about Finn. No idea that hearing them talk about AIDS, like that was the important part of the story--more important than who Finn was, or how much I loved him, or how much he was still breaking my heart every single hour of every single day--made me want to scream.

If you close your eyes when you sing in Latin, and if you stand right at the back so you can keep one hand against the cold stone wall of the church, you can pretend youre in the Middle Ages. Thats why I did it. Thats what I was in it for.

People didn’t know everything then. There were things people had never seen before. Places nobody had ever been. You could make up a story and people would believe it...also maybe it seems like it would be okay not to be perfect. Nobody was perfect back then. Just about everyone was defective, and most people had no choice except to stay that way.

I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.

...I felt the wall between the world of secrets and the real world start to collapse. I felt the girls from the portrait becoming us and us becoming them...

There was a flicker of something in Gretas look. I couldnt tell whether it was a flicker of love or regret or meanness.

…there’s just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on. It makes you believe you’re special, even though you know you’re not.

The day my mother gave us the keys, she also made me and Greta sign a form so that the bank knew our signatures. To get in we had to show our key and sign something so they would know it was really us. I was worried that my signature wouldnt look the same. I wasnt sure when that thing would happen that made it so you always signed your name exactly the same, but it hadnt happened to me yet. So far Id only had to sign something three times. Once for a code of conduct for the eighth grade field trip to Philadelphia, once for a pact I made with Beans and Frances Wykoski in fifth grade that wed never have boyfriends until high school. (Of the three of us, Im the only one who kept that pact.)

Maybe you had to be dying to finally get to do what you wanted.I fidgeted around with the puzzle pieces for a while longer, but I wasnt lucky. Nothing seemed to fit without a whole lot of work.Then I had this thought: What if it was enough to realize that you would die someday, that none of this would go on forever? Would that be enough?