Elizabeth Scott Quotes
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My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.
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I didn't feel anything watching him go. I didn't even wish I did.
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Anger can try to break your heart, but sorrow is what will. What can. What does.
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This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it’s like when you and someone else are right together. How simple it is, and how amazing.
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Try to live. Try to be happy. Things end, people leave, and life goes on. You need the bad things to feel the good ones.
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I will always know what life can take, but I am ready to see what it can give.
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Maybe you and I have to learn how to live with what we saw. With what we know.
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Whatever happened to me just now has gotten to me, broken past the fragile shell I've built. More than my memory is gone. My soul has wings that beat to a heart I don't understand and I see things, feel things that I know aren't from here, but that are so real.
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I felt nothing all the time, and it had started to feel normal. It should have scared me, but it didn't.
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There are a million rules for being a girl. There are a million things you have to do to get through each day. High school has things that can trip you up, ruin you, people say one thing and mean another, and you have to know all the rules, you have to know what you can and can't do.
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Like a heart, and I wish mine wasn't beating.
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I'd dressed up and hoped and I was so tired of doing that, so tired of dreaming and being unable to stop it despite the fact that I'd seen, maybe better than anyone here, what dreams could do to you.
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Friends. Strange indeed. There's just so much at risk, including my heart and mental stability - which are both still extremely fragile. I'm getting better but my heart still aches for you. I'm also having a hard time dealing with the fear. I don't want to be sad anymore. I don't want to cry, worry, or be scared anymore. I just wish I could feel free and happy again. If I can't talk to you at all, it's unbearable. If I talk to you too much, it's unbearable. It doesn't leave much. I want us both to be happy. I just want everything to be okay for you and me. I don't want anyone else to hurt. I feel like I've hurt enough for everyone. I've cried enough tears to fill everyone's bucket.
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She has no idea who I am, not really. She's just someone who's noticed me because the video and she'll forget what she's said before the day is over. Me? Not so much, but I go on, my legs shaking and a mix of anger and despair burning inside me.
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Please. If you were mostly dead in the middle of the road I'd obviously stop. And then I'd watch you die.
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I told you we were meant to be," he says, still smiling, still so Finn, who was always here but who I just didn't see and now-- Well, now I kiss him.
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And that's what makes you angry. What makes you hate. You don't want to believe that sometimes bad things happen just because they do.
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I suppose he's making a real fashion statement, but this is high school. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to be enough like everyone else to get through and out into the waiting world.
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The heart is a place with worm holes made by feelings you aren't supposed to have but do.
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I heard how people sounded when their dreams were shattered, when their lives were turned into a waking nightmare.
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I think the way I feel when I look at Evan comes from her. In pictures taken the day she married my dad, she was reckless, laughing, spinning around in circles. She looked like her whole world was him. She looked a kind of happy I can't even imagine. I don't want that. I don't want to be like that. I don' want to feel the way she did because I know what happens when you do. You love with your whole heart, with everything, and you wake up one morning and kiss someone good-bye the way you always do except you mean it as good-bye forever.
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...sometimes, you have to break your own heart.
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This death expert said it's everything underground that makes grass so green. That dead things make the living. I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.
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Love-real love-can’t be defined. It just is.