Quotes by David Levithan

There are friends, but they are people to spend time with, not people to share time with.

Whats the point of all this magic, if no one really knows how to use it? But I guess the same could be said about life. Which is another form of magic, only less showy.

We always underestimated our own participation in magic. That is, we thought of magic as something that existed with or without us. But that’s not true. Things are not magical because they’ve been conjured for us by some outside force. They are magical because we create them, and then deem them so. Ryan and Avery will say the first moment they spoke, the first moment they danced, was magical. But they were the ones—no one else, nothing else—who gave it the magic. We know. We were there. Ryan opened himself to it. Avery opened himself to it. And the act of opening was all they needed. That is the magic.

In an age of guidebooks, websites, and radio waves, discovery has nearly become a lost feeling. If anything, it is now a matter of expectations to surpass—rarely a matter of unexpected wonderment. It is unusual to find a situation that appears without word, or a place that was not known to be on the road.

Thoughts can follow you anywhere.

It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

They are so caught up in their happiness that they dont realize Im not really a part of it. I am wandering along the periphery. I am like the people in the Winslow Homer paintings, sharing the same room with them but not really there. I am like the fish in the aquarium, thinking in a different language, adapting to a life thats not my natural habitat. I am the people in the other cars, each with his or her own story, but passing too quickly to be noticed or understood. . . . There are moments I just sit in my frame, float in my tank, ride in my car and say nothing, think nothing that connects me to anything at all.

I didnt let her go. She went. Its not my fault.She did it.She could undo it. This is feeling so fucking famliar.Why do we even bother? Why do we make ourselves so open to such easy damage? Is it all loneliness? Is it all fear? Of is it just to experience those narcotic moments of belonging with someone else?

Maybe this is what alone really is — finding out how tiny your world is, and not knowing how to get anywhere else.

But I look into her eyes and she looks into my eyes and we recognize it—the excitement of being here, the excitement of being now. And maybe I’m realizing what a part of it she is and maybe she’s realizing what a part of it I am, because suddenly we’re not crashing as much as we’re combining. The chords swirling around us are becoming a tornado, and we are at the center of each other. My wrist touches hers right at the point of our pulses, and I swear I can feel it. That thrum. We are moving to the music and at the same time we are a stillness. I am not losing myself in the barrage. I am finding her. And she is—yes, she is finding me. The crowd is pressing in on us and the bassline is revealing everything and we are two people who are part of a lot more people, and at the same time we’re our own part. There isn’t loneliness, only this intense twoliness.

It is a sound like loneliness—enough to let you know you’re there, but not enough to fill you with life.

It is an awful thing to be betrayed by your body. And its lonely, because you feel you cant talk about it. You feel its something between you and the body. You feel its a battle you will never win . . . and yet you fight it day after day, and it wears you down. Even if you try to ignore it, the energy it takes to ignore it will exhaust you.

I am jealous of anyone who can make other people care so much.

I had gotten so used to being alone, but never entirely used to it. Never used to it enough to stop wanting the alternative.

After a while, you have to be at peace with the fact that you simply are. There is no way to know why.

Im persnickety, I confessed. Not, incidentally, to the point of being snarly. But still. Delightful and persnickety are not a common blend. Do you want to know why I never married? The question wasnt at the top of my list, I admitted. The old woman made me meet her eye. Listen to me; I never married because I was easily bored. Its an awful, self-defeating trait to have. It is much better to be too easily interested.

Tony knows the names of trees and birds. As we walk around, he points them out to me. I try to record them in my mind, but the information never holds. What matters to me is the emotional meaning of the objects.

So I get to be the bitch now? Fine. Then you, my friend, are the scary girl. He doesnt hit me. He doesnt abuse me. He doesnt cheat on me. Can you hear yourself? If those are the standards you have--hey, he hasnt punched me, so everything must be okay!--that scares me. That makes me think that at some point youve used these justifications. Oh, its really bad right now, and hes being awful...but at least hes not hitting me. Have a little more respect for yourself than that, okay?

My face seems too square and my eyes too big, like Im perpetually surprised, but theres nothing wrong with me that I can fix.

Its true, look at Erik Johnson on the dance floor. Seriously-look at him. Six feet tall, one hundred eighty pounds, all of which can be converted by the right clothes and the right song into a mass of headless joy. (the right hair helps, too). He treats his body like its made of fireworks, each one timed to the beat. Is he dancing alone or dancing with everyone? here is the secret: it doesnt matter. he travelled for two hours to get to the city, and when its all over, it will take him over two hours to get home. But its worth it. Freedom isnt just about voting and marrying and kissing on the street, although all of these things are important. Freedom is also about what you will allow yourself to do.