Leila Sales Quotes

I think love without heartbreak is a myth. A pretty myth, but the kind of myth that ultimately makes us feel worse about ourselves because we're somehow not able to make it come true.

Which to you have?' Mel asked, blocking the entry with his body. 'Talent or issues?' I paused for a moment, thought about this. 'Both,' I said at last.

That waitress was flirting with me," Dad announced once we were out of the restaurant. He said it in his "whispering voice," which meant it was still loud enough for the waitress, all of her coworkers, and the shoppers at every other store in the mall to overhear.
"Ew," I said. "She was not."
Dad chuckled with delight over how hot and eligible he imagined himself to be. "She kept coming over to 'try to collect my plate' ... "
"Because that is her job," I reminded him.
"And the way she looked at your mother? Pure jealousy!" Dad slipped his arm around Mom's waist. "Poor thing. I left her a big tip.

So why are you letting your issues get in the way of your talent?

What do you think, Elizabeth?" Dad turned to me.
"Um, my name's still Chelsea. Remember, you named me that yourself? When I was born?

Those are pretty much the only questions people ask Colonials. If they want you to tell them anything else, just make it up. They will believe you, because you are wearing a costume.

Sally and Chava eat only raw vegetables for lunch because they are trying to lose weight. Then they split a pack of Entenmann's doughnuts for dessert.

Hurting people, really, deeply hurting them - that isn't something you do on purpose. It's just a by-product of living.

Like all stories, the one you are about to read is a love story.
If it wasn't, what would be the point?

I didn't know. I feel sometimes like ... there are all these rules. Just to be a person. You know? You're supposed to carry a shoulder bag, not a backpack. You're supposed to wear headbands, or you're not supposed to wear headbands. It's okay to describe yourself as likeable, but it's not okay to describe yourself as eloquent. You can sit in the front of the school bus, but you can't sit in the middle. You're not supposed to be with a boy, even when he wants you to. I didn't know that. There are so many rules, and they don't make any sense, and I just can't learn them all

If there's one common thread throughout all of history, it's that people have always fallen for the wrong people.

You will learn to love again

It took me a minute more of standing there before I realized that I'd been dismissed. Before I
realized that a relationship can end just like that.

If you can swing it, getting arrested is the high point of the Fourth of July. Also, the reading of the Declaration of Independence is exciting. (Yes, the Declaration was written two years after Essex is officially set. No, this doesn't stop us.) [ ... ] Essex stayed open late that night, for the holiday. Our patriotism cannot be constrained by an eight-hour workday.

But I also felt like an eggshell that had gotten a tiny crack. You can't repair something like that. All you can do is hope that it sticks together, hope that the crack doesn't grow until all your insides come spilling right out.

Also, he was kind of cute. Not really, of course, since he was the enemy, and the enemy cannot possibly be cute. He was only cute enough to make me wish I could free my hands so that I could fix my hair. I mean, fix my hair, then punch him in the face, and then run.

I believe that a person's taste in music tells you a lot about them. In some cases, it tells you everything you need to know.

Tonight the Internet seemed filled with versions of me, like a fun house filled with mirrors. Some of them made me look prettier, and some of them made me look uglier, and some of them chopped me right in half, but none of them were right.

In a way, Amelia Kindl had been right when she once said to me, 'I saved your life.' She was right, but not in the way she meant. When she saw the suicide note on Elise Dembowski's Super-Secret Diary and called my father, she set into motion the chain of events that led me to being in the DJ booth tonight. And that, in a way, had saved my life.

Don't be special. That's what I would say to my younger self if I could pinpoint the moment when I went astray. But there was no one moment. I was always astray

I was smiling like a crazy person because I has just made a hundred people dance, I had just made a hundred people scream, I had just made a hundred people happy. I, Elise, using my own power, had made people happy.

What do you think it takes to reinvent yourself as an all-new person, a person who makes sense, who belongs? Do you change your clothes, your hair, your face? Go on, then. Do it. Pierce your ears, trim your bangs, buy a new purse. They will still see past that, see you, the girl who is still too scared, still too smart for her own good, still a beat behind, still, always, wrong. Change all you want; you can't change that.

People are who they are and, try as you might, you cannot make them be what you want them to be.

Theater class seemed like a way to play pretend, only with everyone paying attention to me.

Isn't that funny, to think that the people who have lived in your daydreams for the past two weeks, the people whom you've drawn in your chemistry notebook, to think that those people might not even know who you are?

The thing about being an artist," Dad said, folding his newspaper and setting it down on the table, "is that there are always going to be people who want to stop you from doing your art. But this usually says more about them and their issues than it does about you and your art. Trust me.

But you know better than anyone how the Internet sees everything and nothing, all at the same time.

Because before the time when you're heartbroken, you get to be in love, and that's worth it.

There were people in this world who didn't know how to take care of others. There were people who walked away even when they'd made a promise to stand by you. There were people who threw around the word love but only acted on it when it was convenient for them.

We all want things that aren't good for us.

Throughout it all, you are still, always, you: beautiful and bruised, known and unknowable.

There are dangers everywhere, I wanted to explain to her. On the school bus, in the cafeteria, at Start, inside me. No parent - no one at all - can step in and vanquish every one of them.

You were good."

It was a very small compliment, but it came from someone who mattered, about something that mattered. I felt a smile spread across my face. "Really?

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. . . and even the worst ice cream is better than no ice cream.

This is who Ezra is dating now. He is now into girls who are into dressing up as nineteenth century prostitutes. For the hats.

Look, the light turns yellow before it turns red, so if you see a yellow light, you might want to consider slowing the hell down.

United we stand, divided we fall

Just watch us as we beat ya'll.

You say 'brother against brother'?

Well, my brother screwed your mother

And she liked it!

We'll kick your shins and break your knee

'Cause all you got is Robert E. Lee.

Farbs!

Music wasn't history class; I didn't need to memorize a thousand dates and names.

Well, you can't have heartbreak without love," Dan pointed out. "If your heart was really broken, then at least you know you really loved him.

People have to create some sort of art so they have something to think about other than their shitty lives.

I could not figure out what they were doing in an ice cream shop, since they couldn't possible eat calories. I imagined they just fed off the misery of less cool people.

Well, I will tell you: making friends is actually not that hard when you drop every single one of your standards.

Walking at night is like walking in a dream. It's dark, so I don't notice much of the scenery. I don't wear my watch, so time becomes meaningless.

I looked into her gray-blue eyes and saw myself in them, as clearly as looking in a mirror. Building a miniature record player for my dollhouse long past bedtime. Teaching myself to code a Web site under the covers, so my dad wouldn't come in and tell me to go to sleep. DJing alone in my bedroom in the dark. These things could always wait until daylight, but I wanted to do them in the night.

It wasn't an effect of alcohol. It was more like we got drunk on the night.

I don't believe that anyone who is a legitimately interesting person can be popular as a teenager," Mel went on. "Or ever, maybe. Popularity rewards the uninteresting.

When you die, you just die. No ghost, no reincarnation, no heaven. People want to believe that their souls live on or whatever, but that's only because they can't handle the idea of the world going on without them.

What do you do when you say sorry, but that still isn't enough?

The next time some desperate parents beg me to take care of their children," I raged, sawing at my slice of chicken breast, "I will ask them for a full accounting of all the boxes of cereal in their pantry. And if they don't have at least three types of sugary cereal, then I will say no. No, I will not babysit for your whiny children in your cereal-deprived sham of a household.

What really happened doesn't matter. What matters is how we agree to remember it.

Some people were nice to you simply because they liked you.

I had once thought that I wanted to get revenge by dying. But getting revenge by living, and living well, was much, much sweeter.

Because if there's one thing we know about lesbians, it's that none of them wear bras.

Life is sort of like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, if you know what I mean. Some days are too big. Some days are much too small. But today was one of those rare days that was just right.

What can I say, I have a thing for guys in period dress, okay? That's just who I am.

Char," I said, and asked for a third time: "Where did you learn to dance?"
He looked up at me then, though his hand was still fiddling with dials. "I taught myself," he said finally. "I go out a lot."
I nodded like I was very wise and knew all about going out a lot.
"How old are you?" he asked me suddenly.
"Sixteen."
Char hung his headphones around his neck. "I like that."
"What?" I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, and I crossed my arms across my chest. "That I'm only sixteen?"
He laughed. "That sounds creepy. No, I like that you're honest. Some girls might claim to be older, you know, so they seem more mature or whatever. You're not pretending to be anything you're not."
"I suck at pretending to be anything I'm not," I told him, leaning against the booth's railing. "It's not for lack of trying.

I had this feeling suddenly. I get this feeling a lot, but I don't know if there's one word for it. It's not nervous or sad or even lonely. It's all of that, and then a bit more. The feeling is I don't belong here. I don't know how I got here, and I don't know how long I can stay before everyone else realizes that I am an impostor. I am a fraud. I've gotten this feeling nearly everywhere I have ever been in my life. There's nothing you can do about it except drink some water and hope that it subsides. Or you can leave.

Vanilla and vanilla bean are two different flavors, and vanilla bean is a much more intense experience

I've spent most of my life perfecting the craft of living history. I have no practice at living in the present.

There are some people who want to win at whatever they do, even if the things they do are not the sort of things one wins at.

Don't take this as a compliment, but you actually don't smell that bad."
Dan let out a burst of surprised laughter. "What did you expect me to smell like?"
"Well ... " I wrinkled my nose. "I heard you guys soak your uniforms in urine."
"So you assumed I'd smell like pee."
"Yes," I said. "But you don't," I added kindly.

You can't tell me my feelings are overwrought or absurd. You don't know. They are my feelings.

I wasn't mad. I didn't need to scream and attack a piece of furniture. I just needed someone to like me.

Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don't know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn't you. That isn't you at all.

I'll pretend to be anyone or anything other than myself, but the problem is that no one is ever fooled.

I know the Smiths, I snapped, because lord knows you can launch any kind of criticism at me, lord knows I've heard it all before, but don't you dare doubt my musical knowledge. There's not much I can do right, just this one thing, but you cannot take this one thing from me.

Char had a phone number. He had a home. He probably had a job or a college and a last name and parents and all of that, too. He didn't just spring into existence late on Thursday night and then blink out again at two a.m. He was a real person.

Of course, as always, there is an arbitrary, invisible fence in place. You can't see it, but it will always keep you out. It will always encircle happiness and keep you out.

Repeat after me: I deserve to be here.'
'I deserve to be here!' Harry and Dave declared, and I mumbled along with them.
'No one can take my dance space away from me,' Vicky intoned, and the three of us repeated her words.
'And finally: I don't care if anyone thinks I look stupid.'
'But I do look stupid,' I pointed out, as Harry yelled out his affirmations.
'So do I,' Vicky said. 'But I don't care.

I used to think that loving somebody meant sacrificing anything for them. I thought it meant writing them a blank cheque. I thought it meant that you would die without each other. But it turns out that death and a broken heart are not he same.
These days, I think that love is not so dramatic as all that. Maybe loving somebody means simply they bring out the best in you, and you bring out the best in them - so that together, you are always the best possible versions of yourselves.

And isn't that such a freeing thing, to talk to somebody who already feels like your journal?

Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.

You were listening to some strangers when you could have benn listening to me talk about myself? Chelsea, how could you?

Some people will tell you that honesty is the best policy, but I disagree. In instances like this, I fully believe that feigned ignorance is the best policy.

If you're going to have the tortured soul of an artist, then you might as well create some art while you're at it.

I am already socially disabled; I don't need to be mentally disabled on top of that.

I am a good person. I like myself the way I am. Many people love and care about me. I have a purpose in life. I don't want to kill myself.

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and all. But my father and I have the sort of loving relationship in which, whenever he says more than one sentence in a a row to me, I want to stab myself in the heart with a a recently formed silver knife.

That's the problem with life. You never get enough time to stare at your ceiling and try to figure out what's going on.

I had never killed myself before, so I had no idea what would I want to listen to when it was too late for me to skip to the next song. Like, maybe when you're dying, you actually want to hear something really upbeat.

Don't you ever want to have just one thing that no one else knows about, so no one can ruin it for you?