Quotes by Jennifer Donnelly

Well, it seems to me that there are books that tell stories, and then there are books that tell truths... The first kind, they show you life like you want it to be. With villains getting what they deserve and the hero seeing what a fool hes been and marrying the heroine and happy endings and all that... But the second kind, they show you life more like it is... The first kind makes you cheerful and contented, but the second kind shakes you up.

DNA tells you all the secrets of life,’ he used to say. Except for one—how to live it.

Becuse God loves us, but the devil takes an interest.

Only the hopeless love God.

God loves us, but the devil takes an interest.

I think your vision gets better as you get older.

There were times when I lifted my face to the sky, stretched my arms wide to the winter night, and laughed out loud, so happy was I.The memory of it makes me laugh now, but not from happiness.Be careful what you show the world.You never know when the wolf is watching.

The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.

And then I remember this morning and I wonder if it really happened or if I dreamed it. It was nice. And weird. And tender. Im not used to tender. Its a fossil, that word. Conditions changed and it died out. Like the woolly mammoth. It just couldnt live in the same world as dick box. Ho dog. Or wiener cousins.

I dont like hope very much. In fact, I hate it. Its the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard. Its bad news. The worst. Its sharp sticks and cherry bombs. When hope shows up, its only a matter of time until someone gets hurt.

Hope is the crystal meth of emotions. It hooks you fast and kills you hard.

We all make mistakes, the danger lies in letting those mistakes make us. Make us believe we cant put things right. Make us think theres no hope. Make us give up.

Im wishing he could see that music lives. Forever. That its stronger than death. Stronger than time. And that its strength holds you together when nothing else can.

You cant argue with the dead, no matter what you say, they always have the last word.

And I knew in my bones that Emily Dickinson wouldnt have written even one poem if shed had two howling babies, a husband bent on jamming another one into her, a house to run, a garden to tend, three cows to milk, twenty chickens to feed, and four hired hands to cook for. I knew then why they didnt marry. Emily and Jane and Louisa. I knew and it scared me. I also knew what being lonely was and I didnt want to be lonely my whole life. I didnt want to give up on my words. I didnt want to choose one over the other. Mark Twain didnt have to. Charles Dickens didnt.

A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.

...Listen to your own thoughts and feelings very carefully, be aware of your observations, and learn to value them. When youre a teenager—and even when youre older—lots of people will try to tell you what to think and feel. Try to stand still inside all of that and hear your own voice. Its yours and only yours, its unique and worth of your attention, and if you cultivate it properly, it might just make you a writer.

When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.

You should spend more time reading the Good Book and less reading all those novels. What are you going to tell the Lord on Judgement Day when He asks you why you didnt read your bible? Hmm? I said. To myself.

I dont know what I was hoping for. Some small praise, I guess. A bit of encouragement. I didnt get it. Miss Parrish took me aside one day after school let out. She said shed read my stories and found them morbid and dispiriting. She said literature was meant to uplift the heart and that a young woman such as myself ought to turn her mind to topics more cheerful and inspiring than lonely hermits and dead children.Look around yourself, Mathilda, she said. At the magnificence of nature. It should inspire joy and awe. Reverence. Respect. Beautiful thoughts and fine words.I had looked around. Id seen all the things shed spoken of and more besides. Id seen a bear cub lift its face to the drenching spring rains. And the sliver moon of winter, so high and blinding. Id seen the crimson glory of a stand of sugar maples in autumn and the unspeakable stillness of a mountain lake at dawn. Id seen them and loved them. But Id also seen the dark of things. The starved carcasses of winter deer. The driving fury of a blizzard wind. And the gloom that broods under the pines always. Even on the brightest days.