Quotes by Jodi Picoult

if im going to fuck up my life, does it really matter which way i do it?.

The truth was, history repeated itself on a daily basis; mistakes were made over and over. People were haunted by what they had done, and by what they hadnt had time to do.

Life, it turns out, goes on. There is no cosmic rule that grants you immunity from the details just because you have come face-to-face with a catastrophe. The garbage can still overflow, the bills arrive in the mail, telemarketers, interrupt dinner.

The wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what theyd lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come.

She shrugged. You can be happy for someone elses good fortune, but that doesnt mean you forget your own bad luck.

A mathematical formula for happiness:Reality divided by Expectations.There were two ways to be happy:improve your reality or lower your expectations.

See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it

Sometimes you can see things happen right in front of your eyes and still jump to the wrong conclusions.

You know, the mind is a remarkable thing. Just because you cant see the wound doesnt mean it isnt hurting. It scars all the time, but it heals.

If we dont change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going.

Love was that way. You could not render it in black or white. It always came down to the strange, blended shades of grey.

Like a missing tooth, sometimes an absence is more noticeable than a presence.

And I remembered something else that makes us human: faith, the only weapon in our arsenal to battle doubt.

Anxietys like a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it doesnt get you very far.

When I was little I bragged about my firefighting father: my father would go to heaven, because if he went to hell he would put out all the fires

The truth doesnt always set you free; people prefer to believe prettier, neatley wrapped lies

Just because its fiction doesnt mean its any less true.

If she spoke, she would tell him the truth: she was not okay at all, but horribly empty, now that she knew what it was like to be filled.

But love wasnt about sacrifice, and it wasnt about falling short of someones expectations. By definition, love made you better than good enough; it redefined perfection to include your traits, instead of excluding them. All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone elses life would not have been as rich without us here.

When you showed someone how you felt, it was fresh and honest. When you told someone how you felt, there might be nothing behind the words but habit or expectation.