Natalie Standiford Quotes

Those who love only half of him do not live him at all.

Tom was okay, but we were just pretending to like each other, hoping that eventually, if we pretended hard enough, it would turn real. Maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't. But Jonah was already real. Even Matthew was real, though I'd never seen him. And they made me real.

How do you define a boyfriend? If a boyfriend is the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning and the last face you see before you fall asleep, then I was in love with Jonah. But if a boyfriend had to involve physical chemistry and kissing and sex and stuff, then, no, he wasn't that.

The whole world is pressing in on me, like a weight on my chest, slowly pushing me down and down. And there's nothing between me and this weight but my flimsy skin. It's not enough. It won't protect me. It doesn't keep anything out. The outside will keep pressing in until my ribs are crushed, and then my organs, my heart and liver and stomach ...

She decided that day to study Russian, the language of violence, terror, and absurdity. She knew she would never be bored.

I'll never forget Jonah's face. A light poured out of him and became the spirit of the room, like a genie released from a bottle after centuries of darkness.

Its more a trance, jonah said. the whole world is pressing in on me, like a weight on my chest, slowly pushing me down ans down. and there's nothing between me and this weight but my flimsy skin. Its not enough. It won't protect me. It doesn't keep anything out. The outside will keep pressing until my ribs are crushed.

You're a big sister?' I was shocked. She seemed so good-natured and compassionate.

The whole summer stretched out before us, long, hot, endless.
September flashed like a tiny red warning light in the distance, but if I squinted, I could ignore it. I decided to squint for a while.
'It's going to be wonderful,' I said.

I have a rotary phone from the sixties, it take forever to dial, which keeps me from making impulsive calls.

He's stuck with them, so he makes the best of a bad situation. he's a hero because he makes something good out of a life he doesn't want.

No amount of wishing will bring back the dead.

I didn't want to die. I just found death soothing to think about.

There is a separation between parents and children that shouldn't be breached when the children are young. The parents' adult follies are private. They're disturbing and hard to understand. But eventually the kids wise up, the follies start leaking out, and the parents are revealed in all their flawed humanity. Dad and I were about to cross that boundary for good.

The students adore your father,' a perfumed woman said to me. 'Aren't you lucky to live with such a charming man!'
'He's even more charming at home,' Mom said. 'Isn't he, Bea? He rides a unicycle through the house -'
'- even up and down the stairs,' I added.
'He juggles eggs as he makes breakfast every morning -'
'- which he serves to us in bed of course,' I said.
'- and pulls fragrant bouquets out of his ass,' Mom finished.
'He's just a joy.

Throughout history, big changes always start with a girl meeting a boy."
"No they don't," Jane said. "They start with somebody being assassinated.

He's as bad as my mother. Maybe worse. He's a market-research consultant. He studies people's facial expressions to see how they feel about commercials and products. He used to be a psychologist but he makes more money helping big corporations dupe the public. The worst part is he can look at your face and say 'Your upper lip just twitched! Anger! You're angry. Don't try to hide it from me, young man. Why does it make you angry when I say those pants make you look like a girl? Doe you have something against girls? Perhaps some unresolved Oedipal feelings?

Well, if you're talking about love, why did you bring up cocaine?

Jonah's breath came fast and shallow. I reached for his hand. He turned his face to me, his eyes wide with panic. Two frozen ponds. A boy screamed and pounded on the surface, trapped under the ice. Panicking. Trying to break through. But his screams faded, his fists flailed, and he slipped away into the dark. The boy was gone. Nothing left but the ice, clear and smooth enough to skate on.

Even Robot Girls get nervous sometimes.
-Beatrice Szabo

Laura, this isn't love. Love lets you go on a trip without following you. Love can live without you for a week, knowing you'll come back.'
'No, it can't.' The afternoon shadows grew long and cold. In spite of the chill, a heat rose up inside her and flooded her face. 'That's how you know it's true love. When he can't live without you.'
Karen shook her head. 'That's how you know it's obsession. Or something else.

Sounds pretty bad. Are you sure about this?"
"Oh, I'm sure."
"Well, I don't know what we can do to prepare, except say our prayers."
"Good luck with that, Herb. God died in 1945.

Before he sat down, my internal heat-seekers sensed what was coming my way: deep blue eyes that melted girls like Velveeta in a microwave. I tried to resist those microwave eyes, but sometimes there's no defense against them. I had a feeling I'd be seeing him weeping over my coffin later that night.

Don, we're huge fans," I said.
"Don, we're huge fans," he shot back in a high-pitched voice meant to mock me.
What a jerk, I thought, but I didn't care, because he was Don Berman, and that's what Don Berman did.

I just wanted to say something about him, to shoot his spirit out over the airwaves and see what it will do. Maybe he'll come to one of you and give you something you need. Help you get rid of the blues, or keep the sun from catching you crying. A lot of you believe in ghosts. I've heard you say so.

This year I have Sister Mary Joseph for Religion. Right away I could tell she was going to become my archenemy. She has a stony face with a mean squint; Clint Eastwood in a wimple. She trained the squint on me and decided I was trouble from the get-go.

A toast to the birthday boy!' Myrna shouted. 'Welcome to the adult world, hon. It's lonely, it's miserable, and God help you. But there are bright spots, and nights like tonight are one of them.

I missed him desperately, even though he'd said he hated me, even though his anger - the rampage at his house, the X through his yearbook page, the cruel way he withdrew from everyone - scared me. I didn't care if he wasn't my boyfriend, or even my friend. He was my Jonah. I felt more alone without him now than I'd ever felt before I met him. My life had a hole in it.

I don't care, I don't care, I don't care what they think.

I might have been made of metal once, but not anymore. Like Pinocchio, I'd turned into a real girl. So far it sucked. But there was nothing I could do about it.

I think ghostliness is a good quality. I pretend I'm dead all the time."
"What?" He stopped rummaging through his locker to look at me full in the face a last.
"It helps me go to sleep," I said.
"That shows you don't know anything about death," Jonah said.
"Do you?" I asked.
He hesitated before saying "I'm a g-g-g-ghost, aren't I?"
"I think being dead might be nice. Restful."
"Death is not restful. It's nothing."
"That's what seems restful to me," I said. "The nothing. Not being here. Not being anywhere.