Hannah Harrington Quotes

It's harder than you think, to find someone who truly believes in your unequivocal, unconditional awesomeness

I'm still the same Chelsea Knot. Bow down, bitches.

My love for June and Jake is an anchor, bound with unbreakable chains. Weighing me down, but at the same time ... keeping me grounded. Keeping me here. Tying me to the world. It hurts, but it's supposed to, because that's what it means to be alive. And that's comforting, actually. The realization that I'm not some robot devoid of emotions. That I still have the ability to feel things this brutally, this immediate and sharp.

I gaze out at the glittering sea, the breathtaking sky above it, and think of birds and the moment before the fall, and how my sister as a child had been strong enough for the both of us, and I wonder when exactly that changed. I don't know when, but it did. Jake was right - I'm strong in a way June never was. Because I know that I want to be here. Even with the pain. Even with the ugliness. I've seen the other side - marching side by side down city streets with people who all believe they can change the world and the view of the sunset from Fridgehenge and Tom Waits lyrics and doing the waltz and kisses so hot they melt into each other and best friends who hold your hand and stretching out underneath a sky draped with stars and everything else.
There is so much beauty in just existing. In being alive. I don't want to miss a second.

There's no denying the fact he is really, really good-looking, in this rakish, edgy, badass, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-screw-you-I-don't-need-a-mirror kind of way.

-You were in jail? What was it like?
-Boring.Dirty.Smelled like ass.

Whatever you decide, don't let it be because you don't think you have a choice.

If you really want things to change, you can make them change no matter where you are.

Seth says, and I quote,'Jake is an idiot

Jake was right - I'm strong in a way June never was. Because I know that I want to be here. Even with the pain. Even with the ugliness.

With technology and everything, compact discs are going to be, like, vintage soon, right? The way vinyl is now. Like, if I ever have kids, they're going to look at CDs and think, 'What is this crap, geez, how clunky.' By then everyone will have the fiftieth edition of iPods - or maybe they'll just have music downloaded directly into their brains, like with microchips, or something. And I'll be the old lady in the corner going, 'Back when I was a kid, we had mix tapes, and floppy disks, and gas didn't cost twenty bucks a gallon, and oh, yeah, MTV actually played music videos, if you can believe it.' And they'll probably say, 'Oh, Mom, you and your stories, we're jetting to the oxygen bar, see you later,' and take off in their flying cars. You know there'll be flying cars, it's only a matter of time.

She does know we're coming, right?' I ask.
'Well ... ' He hems and haws a bit. 'Not exactly.'
Laney immediately smacks the back of his head. 'Jake! You mean we're showing up unannounced? That is so rude!'
'What if she isn't there? What are we going to do?' I smack him once, too, for good measure. 'What is *wrong* with you?'
'Can we please stop with the abuse?

Everything on the radio is crap ... It's fast food for your ears. It doesn't make you think. It isn't even about anything - not anything real. Don't you think music should say something?

Are you kidding? This is perfect! This is exactly what we've been hoping for! He has everything we need.
Okay, I'll admit. Turning it down does feel a little like kicking God in the balls.

In some ways I admire Aunt Helen's unwavering certainty in God's divine plan. It must be comforting, to have faith like that. To believe so concretely that there's someone - something - out there watching guard, keeping us safe, testing us only with what we can handle. I've never believed in anything the way Aunt Helen believes in God.

You're nothing like your sister," he tells me. "She meant a lot to me, okay? It's true. But the things I like about you have nothing to do with her. You - you are so strong and stubborn it drives me crazy. You're the one going through all this and you still put Laney first every time, instead of throwing yourself the pity party we both know you deserve. You call me out on my shit, and I like that, because sometimes I need someone to call me out on my shit. And you get Johnny Cash, and you take these incredible photos, and everything about you makes me hurt, in a good way, and it blows my mind that someone can be so amazing and not even see it.

We should go swimming," Anna says, out of the blue. ( ... )
Danny looks at her like she just suggested knocking over the closest liquor store. Which wouldn't be such a bad idea, on second thought, considering how fast Laney, Seth and Anna are working through the tequila bottle. "Uh sure, if catching pneumonia's your idea of a fun time. I don't want to freeze my balls off. I'm rather attached to them. Literally and figuratively.

What's important is the time we spent working on it together. What's important is that Sam is the kind of guy who will trade notes on a sketchpad and teach me how to make tuna melts and drop everything to drive to a parking lot
when I need him and throw stones at my window to make sure I'm okay.

Maybe Laney's right. Maybe June did love me. But I'm far less certain that she knew I loved her. Did she realise how much I needed her around? It's not like I ever told her. I was too wrapped up in my own world to notice what was going on in hers. Even if she did know, it wasn't enough to count. It wasn't enough to make her stay. So really, what did it matter, in the end?
The bottom line is, it's my fault. I didn't love her enough. I didn't do enough. I wasn't enough. There's no excuse. There is nothing that will ever make that okay.

That hate is easy, but sometimes love is easy too.

I hate organized religion. I hate that people use it to justify their crappy, bigoted beliefs.

I walk to my car without looking back, and as I drive away, I'm hit with a sudden wave of sadness. But it's a distant kind of sad - like when you look at your Barbies and realize you don't want to play with them anymore, because you're growing up and you've moved on, and in your heart you know it's time to make room for other things.

Awesome."
"Awesome squared."
"Awesome cubed."
"Awesome to the power of infinity."
"The square root of awesome is-"
"-Asha." We finish at the same time and laugh.

"Awesome squared."
"Awesome cubed."
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"Awesome cubed."
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People like that? People who don't want to be found? They're usually really good at staying lost.

It seems so impossible that someone could look at [Andy and Noah], see how plainly they care for each other, and find anything ugly or shameful or worthy of hatred in it, when all I see is something beautiful.

Keeping secrets isn't my specialty.

Jake shuts the van's back doors and lies down next to me. He's really close, so close I can feel him breathing on the nape of my neck. I could put more space between us, but instead I scoot backward, leaning into him, my back pressed into the pleasant warmth of his front. Jake holds his breath for a moment, but he doesn't say anything. And he doesn't move away ... He moves so his mouth is right under my ear, brushing the skin there, and one of his hands slides up, resting on my rib cage. My whole body tingles as he starts to sing softly into my ear.

Google is so my bitch

And even if we did, which we didn't, it's none of your business."
"Okay."
"I just wanted you to know."
"Okay."
"If you say okay one more time, I'm going to punch you in the solar plexus."
His eyebrows jump. "The solar plexus, huh?"
"Yes," I say. "I'm not exactly sure where that is, but I will find out. And then I will punch you there. Hard.

The truth is, the person I've been hating more than anyone is myself. It is so easy. So easy to look in the mirror at all my imperfections and think of all the ways I fall short of someone ...

There is so much beauty in just existing. In being alive.

Careful, Harper. Someone might think you're actually enjoying yourself."
I can't suppress a smile. "Huh."
"Huh?" He quirks an eyebrow "What was the 'huh' for?

I love the way he says my name, like it's something he wants to keep safe.

The house is eerily quiet. All this time I thought silence would be a welcome reprieve, but it's less comforting than I imagined. The house feels so much bigger and colder than it ever has.

Listen, Harper. I realize how hard this is for you.
A flash of anger heats up in my chest. She doesn't understand. She can't. If she did, she'd leave me alone instead of trying to force me to talk about this.

It's so stupid because all I wanted was space and now that I have it, there's this part of me that's achingly lonely I could die.

Hate is... It's too easy. Love. Love takes courage.

I still go to bed sad, and wake up sad, and it still hurts like hell, but there are moments during the day when it hurts less. Sometimes I can think of June and not want to burst into tears or put my fist through a wall. Sometimes I'm close to happy and it doesn't even hurt. Much. I'll never be the way I was before, but maybe that's okay. Life goes on, I'm going on, even without her. Not every day hurts. Not every breath hurts.
Maybe that's all we can really ask for.

Hate is easy, but love takes courage.

He is such a dork. It's sort of endearing.

It's not really a practical dream to have, is it?
He stares right at me. It's intense, being under the weight of his full attention. Dreams have to be practical?

No problem. Just drop it back off before you go," he says, procuring a brass key. "And if he puts on Bowie's early stuff and starts sweet-talking, dammit, you run. You run as fast as you can.

Also, tonight he reeks too much of beer and cloying cologne. This is a disappointment because I always assumed that a perfect creature such as Brendon would smell of spring rain and mountain bresses and other heavenly aromas.

I don't know what I need, or even what I want, from her or from anybody. There's no way to tell her the truth, because the truth is that my heart is broken, and I don't think there's any chance of it being sewn back together. This is permanent. It can't be fixed.

Music can see you through anything.

Boys. I will never understand them. Not even the gay ones.

I want to stop running away from everything.
I want to find something to run toward.

I use the time to finish reading Of Mice and Men, which turns out to be just as awful as I thought it would be. I hate stories with dead puppies. So depressing.

You know, I'm atheist, but I get it. I get why people have faith in a higher power. Some people need it. They need to believe they're not alone.

It must be comforting, to have a faith like that. To believe so concretely that there's someone - something - out there watching guard, keeping us safe, testing us only with what we can handle.

Listening to Eminem makes me feel like a badass. Or at least as though I have the potential for badassery. I mean, the way he sings, it's like he'd probably punch out a puppy if it looked at him wrong. Obviously I'm not glorifying animal cruelty here, I'm just saying, I could use some of that attitude.

So what if he's hot, sometimes. Like every time I look at him. Besides, annoying he may be, but he's had his shining White Knight Moment, what with the whole saving-me-and-my-best-friend-from-a-brawl-and-probable-jail-time thing. Even if I'm no damsel in distress and he's miles away from Prince Charming, such displays of gallantry, combined with his not-bad-okay-actually-pretty-good looks, make my strange lusty feelings completely justified. Practically obligatory, even.

We've been caught in a wildly passionate, completely one-sided affair since freshman year.

We left behind this small town
But we couldn't leave behind the ghosts
As we headed for the coast, yeah, and you know
There was something in the way she told me
How my hair looked stupid, and
How she couldn't hold her tequila, and
How she was broken and beautiful and
Still standing, and how was I supposed to know
All along we were saving June
Saving June, yeah
She had flowers in her hair and one powerful glare
My modern day Rubik's Cube, she made me feel
Like maybe we could have it all
But you can never have it all
And now I've gone and lost
All these things that they always sang about
All the things that I still dream about
Now I'm counting up the days, counting all the ways
I never said what it means, but it's too late 'cause
June is over and so are we
And I'm the one left, with nothing to save

Therapy is my mother's solution to everything. I'm sure she thinks there'd be peace in the Middle East if every country were forced to sit down on a stiff leather couch with a box of Kleenex and talk about their feeeeelings.

Some people are just sad, all of the time. Too sad to deal with - everything. Life, I guess. I don't know. There doesn't always have to be a reason.

You know, the husband, John Bobbit, he formed a band after that whole thing. The Severed Parts," I tell him. "I'm pretty sure he did a lot of porn, too."
Jake just lies there, staring at me. The teasing in his eyes has been replaced with a serious, assessing look.
"What?" I say. God, boys are weird.
"How did you know that?" he asks. He actually sounds impressed.
"It's called the internet. You might try living in the twenty-first century sometime," I mumble.

All of them are the same type; girls with overprocessed hair and too much makeup and way too much access to Daddy's credit cards. Girls who, if you took away the designer labels, hair dye and cover-up, wouldn't be more than average-looking, but with all that stuff look too plastic to be pretty.

I don't know what I believe anymore. If God does exist, then He's just an asshole, creating this world full of human suffering and letting all these terrible things happen to good people, and sitting there and doing nothing about it. At June's memorial service, a few people came up to me and said some really stupid things, like how everything happens for a reason, and God never gives us more than we can handle. All I could think was, does that mean if I was a weaker person, this never would've happened? Am I seriously supposed to buy that June's death was part of some stupid divine plan? I don't believe that. I can't. It just doesn't make sense.

My mistake was not in speaking out. No, my mistake was staying silent for too long.

Things get to me all the time - I just don't see the point in making a
big deal out of it.

Parents are supposed to protect you, but they seem to be really, really lousy at it.

It always struck me in years after how bizarre it was, how two people could look at one another with such tenderness and complete love, and how quickly that could dissolve into nothing but bitterness.

Running my mouth has hurt enough people already - the least I can do is to shut up.

You can be surrounded by people and still be lonely. You can be the most popular person in school, envied by every girl and wanted by every boy, and still feel completely worthless. The world can be laid at your feet and you can still not know what you want from it.

You cannot be in love with someone you've really only known for barely a week and on top of that someone who drives you crazy most of the time. No matter how goodlooking and charming and interesting and understanding he may be. Not even if he's the one person who makes you feel like yourself.
Right?

I've never been good at emotional stuff. Except anger. Anger, I'm good at.

I already told you, I'm not gonna subscribe to your stupid magazine!' she yells.
'We're not selling anything,' Jake calls back. 'We just came to see my favorite chula this side of the Mississippi.'
The girl pauses and shields her eyes to get a better look. 'Jacob? That you?'
'In the flesh,' he confirms with a broad grin.