“You become a reader by reading the literature, not by reading the handbooks about it.”

A joy that hurts with sadness a sadness that is pleasurable a pleasure full of terror a terror that excites an excitement that calms a calmness that frightens.

I don’t actually think “true love” is such a good term because love can only be true. If it isn’t true it can’t be love.

Doing anything when you’re bored is very very boring. Anyway, doing nothing is the point of being bored.

Yet, isn’t it strange, isn’t it weird, how we can KNOW that someone is not behaving in the way we imagine, and at the same time we can be totally convinced that he is!

There are times when you don’t know yourself. There are times when you don’t want to know yourself.

He thought: How difficult it is to explain yourself to yourself. Sometimes there only is, and no knowing.

The thing is, when love is real, whether it’s ebbing or flowing, it’s always there, it never goes away. And that’s the only proof you can have that it is real, and not just a crush or an infatuation or a passing fancy

As someone who knows her mind and who I envy for that. As someone who is strong in herself without seeming to need anyone else to help her. As someone who makes me thinks and unsettles me in a way that makes me feel more alive.

I will not compromise on language or content. At 15, people can handle the same language as me, they’re just as complicated as me and are very interested in thinking about important questions for the first time.

Readers are made by readers – it is so obvious it is almost banal to say it.

Is it better to go with the flow or let the flow go?

Never give it all. You can never be yourself otherwise.

The pleasure of being bored ismooning about and doing nothing.

The books, the authors who matter the most are those who speak to me and speak for me all those things about life I most need to hear as the confession of myself

And the price for being a homo-hater should be as high as anyone can pay.

The most memorable people in life will be the friends who loved you when you weren’t very lovable.