There will be all these fifty-year-old women wearing hot pants and squeezing themselves into pretzel shapes and then there will be me. Just reaching for my toes like they’re China. ‘Hello there! You’re so far away, I can’t get to you! Can you even hear me?
E. LOCKHARTA tomato may be a fruit, but it is a singular fruit. A savory fruit. A fruit that has ambitions far beyond the ambitions of other fruits.
More E. Lockhart Quotes
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It shattered something inside me that hadn’t been broken before.
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They do sometimes go crazy, these people, because the world is telling them not to want the things they want. It can seem saner to give up-But then one goes insane from giving up.
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Because on some level, even though it never turns out to be true, and even though I should know better, I still expect life to be like the movies.
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There’s something about seeing a guy’s feelings written down, something about him taking that risk and committing that heart to paper, that means so much more than anything he could just say.
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…a box where she was expected to be sweet and sensitive (but not oversensitive); a box for young and pretty girls who were not as bright or powerful as their boyfriends. A box for people who were not forces to be reckoned with.
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A tomato may be a fruit, but it is a singular fruit. A savory fruit. A fruit that has ambitions far beyond the ambitions of other fruits.
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We can’t know or say what other people do. You have to think what you want to do to get the situation where you want it to be.
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Do not think about guys who have broken your heart six ways. It is mentally deranged to chase after heartbreak.
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Always do what you’re afraid to do.
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I sit around too much, waiting for other people to do stuff and angsting about stuff they’ve done, without doing anything myself.
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If those are your friends, you’ve got no need for enemies.
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My problem is I can think whatever I think-girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah – but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.
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We should not accept an evil we can change.
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Love is when you have a really amazing piece of cake, and it’s the very last piece, but you let him have it.
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I looked at her. my lovely, tall mother with her pretty coil of hair and her hard, bitter mouth. Her veins were never open. Her heart never leapt out to flop helplessly on the lawn. She never melted into puddles. She was normal. Always. At any cost.
E. LOCKHART