Beatrice Sparks Quotes
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We get pissed off when someone tells us what to do, but we don't know what to do unless some fat bastard tell us.
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This morning when I left Mom's parting words were, "Come straight home after school." Wow! Like I'm going to get stoned at 3:30—it doesn't sound so bad at that.
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Judas, boredom is such a drag, drag, drag. Writing might be good therapy for me, though.
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When I’m with him, everything makes so much sense…when I’m away, it’s so much shit.
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I hope they never have to go through the kind of soul searching that I am going through.
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I bet the pill is harder to get than drugs--which shows how screwed up this world really is!
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I feel rotten but I can’t change the way I feel.
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I know I was drugged but that is still no excuse. Why do they want to do things like that?
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It’s a terrible thing but it seems like tragedy brings people together, makes them more supportive, more dependent.
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They don’t think “I care,” “I hurt,” or “I have feelings.” It just seems like I’m always “wrong,” always “selfish,” always “self-centered” and everything else that’s negative and destructive.
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I looked at sky this morning and realized summer is almost gone which really made me sad because it doesn't seem as though its been here at all.
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You can’t do anything to please anybody or say anything to please them or even dress so they’ll be happy and give you a smile.
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It all seems so permanent, so old and new at the same time. But I wonder if I will ever feel completely new again. Or will I spend the rest of my life feeling like a walking disease?
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They have accepted me as an individual, as a personality, as an entity. I belong! I am important! I am somebody!
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We are all in natural high, It was better than dope or booze or anything.
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I'm afraid to hope but I can't help it, and the idea of hoping in this most hopeless of all places makes me want to cry.
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How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?
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What do you know about love? Are your feelings more holy than mine? Am I exempt from the knowledge of love until I become “of age?” Do I automatically become human enough when I start loving you and seeing things your way?
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She didn't know whether she was running away from something or running to something, but she admitted that deep in her heart she wanted to go home.
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I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.
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The complete bottom has fallen out of my life.
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I wanted to ask God to help me but I could utter only words, dark, useless words which fell on the floor beside me and rolled off into the corners and underneath the bed.
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Alone. The saddest word in the world.
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Why so much hate in your mind when love is the only way to straighten things out?