Quotes by Laurie Halse Anderson

A little kid asks my dad why that man is chopping down the tree.Dad: Hes not chopping it down. Hes saving it. Those branches were long dead from disease. All plants are like that. By cutting off the damage you make it possible for the tree to grow again. You watch - by the end of summer, this tree will be the strongest on the block.

When people dont express themselves, they die one piece at a time.

Why are you being so mean?Friends tell friends the truth.yeah, but not to hurt, to help.

THE FIRST TEN LIES THEY TELL YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL 1. We are here to help you. 2. You will have time to get to your class before the bell rings. 3. The dress code will be enforced. 4. No smoking is allowed on school grounds. 5. Our football team will win the championship this year. 6. We expect more of you here. 7. Guidance counselors are always available to listen. 8. Your schedule was created with you in mind. 9. Your locker combination is private. 10. These will be the years you look back on fondly. TEN MORE LIES THEY TELL YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL 1. You will use algebra in your adult lives. 2. Driving to school is a privilege that can be taken away. 3. Students must stay on campus during lunch. 4. The new text books will arrive any day now. 5. Colleges care more about you than your SAT scores. 6. We are enforcing the dress code. 7. We will figure out how to turn off the heat soon. 8. Our bus drivers are highly trained professionals. 9. There is nothing wrong with summer school. 10. We want to hear what you have to say.

Gym should be illegal. Its humiliating.

CONJUGATE THIS:

If I ever form a clan, well be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.

Principal Principal: Wheres your late pass, mister?Errant Student: Im on my way to get one now. PP: But you cant be in the hall without a pass. ES: I know, Im so upset. Thats why I need to hurry, so I can get a pass. Principal Principal pauses with a look on his face like Daffy Ducks when Bugs is pulling a fast one. PP: Well, hurry up, then, and get that pass.

I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here. So, how can I find my way? Is there a chain saw of the soul, an ax I can take to my memories or fears?

We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better.Then it melts.The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They dont know what just happened. They cant remember.

She cannot chain my soul. Yes, she could hurt me. Shed already done so...I would bleed, or not. Scar, or not. Live, or not. But she could not hurt my soul, not unless I gave it to her.

Look at the stupid, poor people. Look at the stupid, poor, burned-out people. Look at the stupid, poor, burned-out people, look at their dead baby. Its death porn for the masses.

Write about the emotions you fear the most.

Revision means throwing out the boring crap and making what’s left sound natural.

Why not spend that time on art: painting, sculpting, charcoal, pastel, oils? Are words or numbers more important than images? Who decides this? Does algebra move you to tears? Can plural possessives express the feelings in your heart? If you dont learn art now, you will never learn to breathe!

No, I am never setting foot in this house again it scares me and makes me sad and I wish you could be a mom whose eyes worked but I dont think you can.

I want to tell him that its just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassies room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mothers kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

Homework is not an option. My bed is sending out serious nap rays. I cant help myself. The fluffy pillows and warm comforter are more powerful than I am. I have no choice but to snuggle under the covers.

I want to make a memorial for our turkey. Never has a bird been so tortured to provide such a lousy dinner.

My parents didnt raise me to be religious. The closest we come to worship is the Trinity of Visa, Mastercard, and American Express. I think the Merryweather cheerleaders confuse me because I missed out on Sunday School. It has to be a miracle. There is no other explanation. How else could they sleep with the football team on Saturday night and be reincarnated as virginal goddesses on Monday?