Quotes by Jandy Nelson

They do make love stories for girls with black hearts after all. They go like this.

My heart leaves, hitchhikes right out of my body, heads north, catches a ferry across the Bering Sea and plants itself in Siberia with the polar bears and ibex and long-horned goats until it turns into a teeny-tiny glacier. Because I imagined it.

You can tell your story any way you damn well please.Its your solo.

Male leads in love stories need to be devoted, need to chase trains, cross continents, give up fortunes and thrones, defy convention, face prosecution, take apart rooms and break the backs of angels, sketch the beloved all over the cement walls of their studios, build sculptures as homages. They dont flirt shamelessly with the likes of me when they have Transylvanian girlfriends. What an effing jerk.

The skys always falling. Always. Youll see. People have no idea.

This is how he came out: he floated into the air high above the sleeping forest, his green hat spinning a few feet above his head. In his hand was the open suitcase and out of it spilled a whole sky of stars.

There were once two sisterswho were not afriad of the darkbecause the dark was full of the others voiceacross the room,because even when the night was thickand starlessthey walked home together from the riverseeing who could last the longestwithout turning on her flashlight,not afraidbecause sometimes in the pitch of nighttheyd lie on their backsin the middle of the pathand look up until the stars came backand when they did,theyd reach their arms up to touch themand did.

And its just dawned on me that I might be the author of my own story, but so is everyone else the author of their own stories, and sometimes, like now, theres no overlap.

I tell you not to be timid. I tell you to make the choices, make the mistakes, big, terrible, reckless mistakes, really screw it all up. I tell you it is the only way.

The eye-roll is a 10.5 on the Ritcher. The Big One. California has slipped into the ocean.

Maybe what my sister wanted was to stay here and get married and have a family.Maybe that was her color of extraordinary.

I have an impulse to write all over the orange walls- I need an alphabet of endings ripped out of books, of hands pulled off of clocks, of cold stones, of shoes filled with nothing but wind.

The feet of ghosts never touch the ground.

You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.

I know the expression love bloomed is metaphorical, but in my heart in this moment, there is one badass flower, captured in time-lapse photography, going from bud to wild radiant blossom in ten seconds flat.

The smell of jasmine makes people tell their secrets

Shes a sun-kissed beach girl who goes gothgrungepunkhippierockeremocoremetalfreakfashionistabraingeekboycrazyhiphoprastagirl to keep it under wraps.

You are remaking the world, Noah. Drawing by drawing

And even as Im kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, I wish I were kissing him, wanting more, more, more, more, like I cant get enough, never will be able to get enough.

I run my hands through his hair, finally, finally, finally, then bring his head to mine and kiss him so hard our teeth collide, planets collide, kissing him now for each and every time we didnt all summer long. I know absolutely how to kiss him too, how to make his whole body tremble just from biting his lip, how to make his whole body tremble just from biting his lip, how to make him moan right inside my mouth by whispering his name, how to make his head fall back, his spine arch, how to make him groan through his teeth.