Quotes by Cecelia Ahern

Our minds do unusual things sometimes, Tamara. When we’re looking for things it takes it upon itself to go down its own route. All we can do is follow

Never trust a man who sits, uninvited, at the head of the table in another mans home.

So how long have you been together? Two months?Five.Five? Jesus, Steve, you might as well get married. I should buy a hat.Dont. They give away your Spock ears.She laughed. This is the Romanian girl?Croatian.Right. Shes a painter?Photographer.Right. She studied him.What? he laughed self-consciously as though he was a twelve-year-old boy whod just been caught with his first girlfriend.Nothing.Come on.I dont know Steve, she cut into her meat, youve changed. You no longer write about Victoria Beckham and you have a girlfriend. I think...You think what?I dont know, I might be jumping the gun here, but I think theres a possibility you might not be gay after all.A chip was hurled at her head.

I never wanted anything new; from the age of ten, I was convinced that you couldnt replace what was lost. I insisted on things on having to be found.

I dont know why men like to barbecue so much. Maybe its the only thing they can cook. Or maybe theyre just closet pyromaniacs.

If you have a dream, you want to at least be able to try to achieve it in some way. Something that is seemingly beyond your grasp but that you know that with a bit of hard work you could possibly achieve.

There was nothing wrong with having an expensive home, nothing wrong at all. There’s a pride in building something up, working hard to achieve something. But it shouldn’t have been his manhood that increased with each new success, it should have been his heart. His success was like the witch in ‘Hansel and Gretel’ fairy tale: it fed him for all the wrong reasons, fattening him in all the wrong places. Dad deserved his success, he just needed a masterclass in humility. I could have done with one too. How special I thought I was in the silver Aston Martin in which he drove me to school some mornings. How special am I now, now that somebody bought it from a depot of reprocessed cars, for a fraction of the price. How special indeed

Its not the job of this town to make me feel happy. Its not this town´s fault that I dont feel I fit in. It doesnt matter where you are in the world, because its about where you are in your head. Its about the other world I inhabit. The world of dreams, hope, imagination, and memories. Im happy up here, and because of that Im happy up there too

It’s not easy remembering the good times.

I dont know why, but theres always the part of you, the part that hides in the shadows protecting the self-destruct button, that doesnt ever want to leave the dark behind.

Courage does not take over, it fights and struggles through every word you say and every step you take. Its a battle or a dance as to whether you let it pervade. It takes courage to overcome, but it takes extreme fear to be courageous.

Oh, its called, em... Kate thinks, I cant remember what its called.Youre the same as me, Dad says to her. Youve got CRAFT too.Whats that?Cant. Remember. A. Fuc-

Close your eyes and stare into the dark. My fathers advice when I couldnt sleep as a little girl. He wouldnt want me to do that now but Ive set my mind to the task regardless. Im staring beyond my closed eyelids. Though I lie still on the ground, I feel perched at the highest point I could possibly be; clutching at a star in the night sky with my legs dangling above cold black nothingness. I take one last look at my fingers wrapped around the light and let go. Down I go, falling, then floating, and, falling again, I wait for the land of my life. I know now, as I knew as that little girl fighting sleep, that behind her gauzed screen of shut-eye, lies colour. It taunts me, dares me to open my eyes and lose sleep. Flashes of red and amber, yellow and white speckle my darkness. I refuse to open them. I rebel and I squeeze my eyelids together tighter to block out the grains of light, mere distractions that keep us awake but a sign that theres life beyond.But theres no life in me. None that I can feel, from where I lie at the bottom of the staircase. My heart beats quicker now, the lone fighter left standing in the ring, a red boxing glove pumping victoriously into the air, refusing to give up. Its the only part of me that cares, the only part that ever cared. It fights to pump the blood around to heal, to replace what Im losing. But its all leaving my body as quickly as its sent; forming a deep black ocean of its own around me where Ive fallen.Rushing, rushing, rushing. We are always rushing. Never have enough time here, always trying to make our way there. Need to have left here five minutes ago, need to be there now. The phone rings again and I acknowledge the irony. I could have taken my time and answered it now. Now, not then. I could have taken all the time in the world on each of those steps. But were always rushing. All, but my heart. That slows now. I dont mind so much. I place my hand on my belly. If my child is gone, and I suspect this is so, Ill join it there. There.....where? Wherever. It; a heartless word. He or she so young; who it was to become, still a question. But there, I will mother it. There, not here. Ill tell it; Im sorry, sweetheart, Im sorry I ruined your chances - our chances of a life together.But close your eyes and stare into the darkness now, like Mummy is doing, and well find our way together. Theres a noise in the room and I feel a presence. Oh God, Joyce, oh God. Can you hear me, love? Oh God. Oh God, please no, Hold on love, Im here. Dad is here.I dont want to hold on and I feel like telling him so. I hear myself groan, an animal-like whimper and it shocks me, scares me. I have a plan, I want to tell him. I want to go, only then can I be with my baby. Then, not now. Hes stopped me from falling but I havent landed yet. Instead he helps me balance on nothing, hover while Im forced to make the decision. I want to keep falling but hes calling the ambulance and hes gripping my hand with such ferocity its as though Im all he has. Hes brushing the hair from my forehead and weeping loudly. Ive never heard him weep. Not even when Mum died. He clings to my hand with all of his strength I never knew his old body had and I remember that I am all he has and that he, once again just like before, is my whole world. The blood continues to rush through me. Rushing, rushing, rushing. We are always rushing. Maybe Im rushing again. Maybe its not my time to go. I feel the rough skin of old hands squeezing mine, and their intensity and their familiarity force me to open my eyes. Lights fills them and I glimpse his face, a look I never want to see again. He clings to his baby. I know I lost mind; I cant let him lose his. In making my decision I already begin to grieve. Ive landed now, the land of my life. And still my heart pumps on. Even when broken it still works.

When you see something, it can’t be unseen. When you hear a sound, it can never be unheard. I know, deep down, that this evening I have learned something that can never be unlearned. And the part of my world that is altered will never be the same.

How extraordinary the ordinary really is, a tool we all use to keep going, a template for sanity.

To hell with you all, I DO believe

I know the difference between right and wrong. I understand the rules. But today I feel that the rules have been blurred, because today they were literally on my front doorstep.

Not like a heart, which let people in without permission, held them in a special place she never had any say in and then yearned for them to remain there longer than they planned.

She roared with laughter. Passersby gave her strange looks, but she didn’t care. If she’d been able to stretch her vision to see beyond the trees he disappeared behind, she would have stopped laughing. She would have seen the couple who’d been in the dark street near the restaurant the previous night, again breaking into laughter when he felt it was safe to abandon the Wally persona. Everywhere she saw that one man, she didn’t see the woman behind him, with him, beside him, urging him on, supporting him. If she had, she might have wondered then who the display was really for.

We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes its easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.