Ellen Hopkins Quotes - Page 2

Have to Find...life...is...a—...gamble...after ...all.

She's no longer afraid to die. What she's afraid of is living, accepting the status quo.

Might as Well Laugh...remember...when...Life...made...sense

I don't believe in God, don't believe in the devil. Unless you want to count my mother. She might be Satan's sister, I suppose.

There is strength in forgiveness.

in a woman's womb.another chance.to make the world better.

Babies aren't born cruel or filled with sick desire. Evil is not intrinsic. It's fashioned.

Honesty. Sobriety. My virginity. No way to regain the first two, I almost gave away the last.

Why are we here? Is there, really, some intelligent design? Why do we cry for someone who leaves us, if there's some Grand Pearly Gate in the sky? Why worry about how we build our lives if the ultimate ending for all is death, a single breath away?

Faces...I...don't...know...the real...me

I had never kissed a boy, had never even considered that I might enjoy such an unclean thing, until literature opened my eyes.

Do you ever dangle your toes over the precipice, dare the cliff to crumble, defy the frozen deity to suffer the sun, thaw feather and bone, take wing to fly you home?

...Every word an author writes causes ripples, like tossing a stone into a pond. And you don't know where they'll go, or who they'll touch, or when they might come back to you. I think everything you do is kind of like that, too.

One kiss, I was totally hooked.

What's the point of being a hero when everyone thinks you're a villain?

Funny thing about the monster. The worse he treats you, the more you love him.

This time when we kiss, I feel it in the pit of my stomach, I feel it in my heart. And I realize love isn't about sex. It's about connection.

I blamed the Bible,when its words were not at fault,only the way they’re interpretedby those too willingto wield them like chain saws,cutting others off at the knees.

I don’t know449that much about the Bible, other than it waswritten thousands of years ago, which dilutesits relevance. However, I know its faithfulfollowers tend to cherry-pick verses to suittheir needs, the same way they cherry-pickwords or scenes from other books to labelobscene.

I think it’s easyto confuse love with other things.Lust, for one. Need, for another

But, though I was very much in lust with him, I knew from the start we were nothing like "forever." Maybe because forever is such a scary place.

Nonfiction speaks to the head. Fiction speaks to the heart. Poetry speaks to the soul. It's the essence of beauty. The essence of pain. It pleases the eye and the ear.

Forgiveness isn’t my best thing.Easier staying pissed. But I’mtired of being pissed all the time.Tired of feeling hurt by stuff thatcan never be fixed because it isan indelible part of the past.

...what good would it do toshutter your windows, neverdream of rainbows or find hopein promises? Why choose to walk awayrather than hold your groundand fight for love?

What I don't like is what it sometimes takes to win. Backstabbing. Manipulation. Out-and-out bribery once in a while, and not always the monetary kind.

Does wanting to die equal losing your mind?

How far we claim to have come - accepting all men as created equal. Gender being the requisite qualifier, as women are not reviewed in the same fashion - their fashion hopefully better suited to the bedroom than the boardroom. And, you know, homosexuals not really being 'men,' cannot be judged equivalent to their stiffer-wristed brethren. On religion, well, some Christians are willing to make room for a Jew or two in their inner circles. But Mecca-facing prayer must be met with flaming crosses. Close your eyes to the details, the big picture can still be viewed through rose-colored glass. But go any distance beyond the rhetoric, truth becomes a shadowed lens.

What we strive for, ultimately, is love. You won't find real love because you're beautiful on the outside. It is drawn to inner beauty. Spend your energy crafting that, and you will know true love.

Back turned, you don't have to look at what you've left behind. And the person who first turned their back on you can't watch you break down and cry. Never allow an enemy to see weakness in you.

I love the way she feels inthe curve of my arm. I loveher unpretentious beauty,her intelligence, her nerve.But could I ever love her?The concept of falling in loveis completely foreign, somethingI can’t bring myself to accept. Her hair pillows my cheek and her hand on my leg is warm. I care about you, Conner, and I hate to see you hurting. I want to respond but can’tfind the pretty words I need.

I Want to ShoutLeave me alone!What's wrong with you?Don't you remember who I am? Who you are?This is not a father's love! I want to scream, Can't you see what you are doing to me? What you've done to me? What you've made of me? I want to cry out, I am your little girl. I am not your girlfriend. I am not your whore. I am not my fucking mother! But he is on top of me and my shout is silenced. He is inside of me and my scream stays there too. He is finished. And I don't cry out, but I do cry a bucket of silent tears. He slithers away and at last, I quietly sob

...Things happenedwhen you were little. Things youdon't remember now, and don't wantto. But they need to escape,need to worm their way outof that dark place in your brainwhere you keep them stashed.

Tying the know means slipping a noose around love and choking it to death.

A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. "Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us." We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.

It was the exact oppositefor me. At first all Iwanted was sex with her,but soon I wanted more.More sex, yes, in unusualplaces, and all different kinds.But that wasn’t all. I wantedher to fill the empty spacesleft by a father who neveronce praised me, ‘friends’ whoused me, an ice princess momwho raised me with glass kisses.

crawling up into daddy's lapwhen dad was stillDADDYnodding my head against his chest soaking in the comfort of his heartLISTENINGto the thump...thumpsomewhere beneath muscleand breastbone I remember his armstheir sublimeENCIRCLINGand the shawdow of his voice"I love you, little girl.Put away your bad dreams.Daddy's here"I put them away, Until Daddy became my nightmare that one that cameHOMEfrom work everyday and insteadof picking me up, chased me farfaraway

Aloneeverything changes.Some might call it distorted realitybut it's exactly the place I need to be.

Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside that you didn’t dare let them escape, in case they blew you wide open

The problem with falling in love is falling back out of it again, usually because you've fallen in love with a lie. That happens as often as not.

Can a dream be wrong? Aren't dreams God's way of telling you things?

In my limited realm of experience, beginnings led to endings.

When You Weren't Looking...why....Can't you...care...more...about...me.

DisappointmentCan do a couple things.It can drop you into a giantsucking sinkhole ofdepression,a place you have to fightto climb out of. Or itcan trigger an epicmaniato overcome the oddsand transform failureinto success. Say youswingas high as the chains willtake you because you seekthe thrill of flight, and on theup-kick, you lose your seat.Injury is likely. But if youworry about fallingdown,and never chance "up,"the sky will remainforever out of reach.

Possibilities...in the closet...itching...to break out...but afraid of...the fallout

HOW do you define a word without concrete meaning? To each his own, the saying goes, soWHYpush to attain an ideal state of being that no two random people will agree isWHERE you want to be? Faultless. Finished. Incomparable. People can never be these, and anyway,WHENdid creating a flawless facade become a more vital goal than learning to love the personWHOlives inside your skin? The outside belongs to others. Only you should decide for you -WHATis perfect.

When did creating a flawless facade become a more vital goal than learning to love the person who lives inside your skin?

Did you ever, when you were little, endure your parents’ warnings, then wait for them to leave the room, pry loose protective covers and consider inserting some metal object into an electrical outlet? Did you wonder if for once you might light up the room? When you were big enough to cross the street on your own, did you ever wait for a signal, hear the frenzied approach of a fire truck and feel like stepping out in front of it? Did you wonder just how far that rocket ride might take you? When you were almost grown, did you ever sit in a bubble bath, perspiration pooling, notice a blow dryer plugged in within easy reach, and think about dropping it into the water? Did you wonder if the expected rush might somehow fail you? And now, do you ever dangle your toes over the precipice, dare the cliff to crumble, defy the frozen deity to suffer the sun, thaw feather and bone, take wing to fly you home?

Nobody seems to care that with every push to live up to their expectations, my own dreams vaporize.

Life is all about change. If it were static, think about how boring it would be. You can't be afraid of it, and you can't worry that you'll mess things up.

Not even Carol knows firsthand how it feels to be hurt in such a way by someone who's supposed to protect you

In a woman's womb another chance to makethe world a better place.

Librarians were like guardian angels, with graying hair and beady eyes, magnified through reading glasses, and always read to recommend new literary windows to gaze through.

Have you everhad so much to saythat your mouth closed up tightstruggling to harnessthe nuclear forcecoalescing within your words?Have you everhad so many thoughtschurning inside you that you didn’tdare let them escapein case they blew you wide open?Have you everbeen so angry that youcouldn’t look in the mirrorfor fear of finding the face of evilglaring back at you?

I knew from the start we were nothing like "forever". Maybe because forever is such a scary place.

GhostsTake shape under moonlight,materialize in dreams.Shadows. Silhouettesof what is no more. Butghosts don'tbother me. The day bringsbigger things to worry aboutthan flimsy remains ofyesterday. No, spooks don'tscare me.Gauzy apparitions mightprank your psyche oragitate your nightmares,but lackingflesh and bloodthey are powerlessto hurt you-cannot hopeto inflict the kind of damagethat real, livepeople do.

I nod, because I do understand. I'm just not sure how to go about divorcing myself from the evil I've already accepted.

LightThat's how I feel-like the winter-fringedbreeze might scoopme up into its wings,flyaway with me trappedin its feathered embrace.I am a snowflake.A wisp of eiderdown,liberatedfrom gravity. My bodyis light. Ephemeral.My head is light.I want to swaybeneaththe weight of air,dizzy with thought.Light filters throughmy closed eyelids.The sun,chasing shadows,tells me I'm notafloat in dreams.

Once...Why...lie?...when...truth is...the easier path

A daughter is a rainbow - a curve of light through scattered mist that lifts the spirit with her prismatic presence. Is a shadow - a reminder of something brilliant ducking out of sight, too easily drawn away. She is an aria, swelling within the concern chamber, an echo reverberating across a miniature sea. She is a secret, whispered, a hint of what we cannot know until it finds us. She is a sliver of her father, a shard of her mother. A daughter is a promise, kept.

God wasn't love, couldn't be love. Because for me, love was a corpse.