Bill Konigsberg Quotes
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I don't think about relatability (when writing), I think about the heart of the character.
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It's funny because it's true, and also it's the kind of humor that makes you think.
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I was thinking about how snakes shed their skin every year, and how awesome it would be if people did that too. In lots of ways, that’s what I was trying to do.
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But I do think that when we choose the easy path, where people or society reward us for being what they want us to be, against who we really are, a kind of death occurs. To the soul.
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Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in a world where no one thought being gay was even something to ride someone about?
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And it's hard to express the truth when the world wants you to be someone else.
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Actually, tolerance and acceptance are different. To tolerate seems to mean that there is something negative to tolerate, doesn't it?
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We’d sleep in the same bed for a year, and finally we’d do it, but we’d never talk about it, ever, and then Ben would get married and I’d be killed in Texas.
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You can be anything you want, but when you go against who you are inside, it doesn't feel good.
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No one had really been looking at me all the time. Other than me.
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It’s not, like, denial? In the GSA we joke that bi guys are just gay guys who aren’t ready to admit it yet.
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The hole in my heart, I can’t even begin to describe. It’s hard when you open your heart and let someone in and then suddenly they’re not in it anymore. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is; that empty spot stings so bad that you want to find any kind of relief, or wrap yourself up so tight you can’t feel it anymore. I knew it might be there a little while. Or maybe even a long while. For both of us.
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Acceptance is an affirmation that you’re good enough.
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Guilt, she’d explained, was useful because a person could learn from it and do the right thing next time. Shame, on the other hand, was useless.
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I mean, if you accept something, you take it for what it is. Tolerance is different. Less.
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I had the strong sensation that I'd underestimated my parents and their devotion to me. Of course they'd be on my side, whether they understood or not. That was just the kind of parents they were.
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I knew that she was right, obviously. But part of me didn't want to. I wanted to have someone to call my own so badly that I just couldn't let it go.