Best 115 quotes of Stephanie Perkins on MyQuotes

A blank canvas...has unlimited possibilities.

Because that's the thing about depression. When I feel it deeply, I don't want to let it go. It becomes a comfort. I want to cloak myself under its heavy weight and breathe it into my lunges. I want to nurture it, grow it, cultivate it. It's mine. I want to check out with it, drift asleep wrapped in its arms and not wake up for a long, long time.

Boys turns girls into such idiots.

Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is to not make the same mistake twice.

Foreign novels are less action-oriented. They have a different pace; they’re more reflective. They challenge us to look for the story, find the story within the story.

Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.

How many times can our emotions be tied to someone else's - be pulled and stretched and twisted - before they snap? Before they can never be mended again?

I am hard on myself. But isn't it better to be honest about these things before someone else can use them against you? Before someone else can break your heart? Isn't it better to break it yourself?

I don’t understand why things always go from perfect to weird with us. It’s like we’re incapable of normal human interaction.

If I had a euro for every stupid thing I've done, I could buy the Mona Lisa.

I know you aren't perfect. But it's a person's imperfections that make them perfect for someone else.

I'm not interested in making what's easy. I'm interested in making what's beautiful.

I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!

I pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. "Is this okay?" I whisper. "Are you okay?" His reply is anguished. Honest. "I love you.

It's ridiculous how difficult a question can be when the answer means so much.

I've always thought the best relationships are those that are as happy and content in silence as they are in action [...]

I wish for the thing that is best for me.

I wish friends held hands more often, like the children I see on the streets sometimes. I'm not sure why we have to grow up and get embarrassed about it.

I wish the world would swallow us here, whole, in this moment. And that's when it hits me that this - this - is falling in love.

Just because something isn't practical doesn't mean it's not worth creating. Sometimes beauty and real-life magic are enough.

My smile wavers as I revert to my natural state of being: nervous and weird.

Perfect is overrated. Perfect is boring." I smile. "You don't think I'm perfect?" "No. You're delightfully screwy, and I wouldn't have you any other way.

Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.

So what do I wish for? Something I'm not sure I want? Someone I'm not sure I need? Or someone I know I can't have?

There are some people in life that you can't get over.

Umbrellas are so small and sad and easy to forget.

What’d I tell you about musicians? That bad boy type will only break your heart.

You ought to stop listening to stereotypes and start forming your own opinions.

You should show encouragement whenever you can. People try harder when they know that someone cares about them.

And I realize ... it’s okay. It’s okay if St. Clair and I never become more than friends. His friendship alone has strengthened me in a way that no one else’s ever has. He swept me from my room and showed me independence. In other words, he was exactly what I needed. I won’t forget it. And I certainly don’t want to lose it.

And then there's the other thing. The thing I'm trying to ignore. The thing I shouldn't want, the thing I can't have. And he's standing in front of me right now. So what do I wish for? Something I'm not sure I want? Someone I'm not sure I need? Or someone I know I can't have? Screw it. Let the fates decide. I wish for the thing that is best for me. How's that for a generalization? I open my eyes, and the wind is blowing harder. St. Clair pushes a strand of hair from his eyes. "Must have been a good one," he says.

And we're finally home.

Autumn is coming. For as long as I can remember, I've talked to the moon. Asked her for her guidance. There's something deeply spiritual about her waxing and waning. She wears a new dress every evening, yet she's always herself. And she's always there.

But that's not quite right either. I miss Paris, but it's not home. It's more like... I miss this. This warmth over the telephone. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? Bridgette used to be home to me. Maybe St. Clair is my new home. I mull this over as our voices grow tired and we stop talking. We just keep each other company. My breath. His breath. My breath. His breath. I could never tell him, but it's true. This is home. The two of us.

Callipygian: Having shapely buttocks.

Como soy una idiota, me quedo junto al teléfono toda la noche esperando que 'pronto' signifique 'pronto'. Pero no es así.

Confidence, darling." He leans across the table and touches a finger to my cheek. "You could learn something from me, you know.

Crushes are so awful. I wonder if they suck worse for the crush-er or the crush-ee. I consider my three years of watching Josh from afar. Yeah, definitely the crush-er.

Do adults realize how lucky they are?

—En París, es común reconocer a alguien atractivo. El francés no desvía la mirada como otras culturas lo hacen. ¿No te habías dado cuenta? St. Clair piensa que soy atractiva. Me llamó hermosa. —Créeme, no quieres dormir en mi cama. Me estoy tele transportando a Atlanta. Te estoy recogiendo, e iremos a algún lugar donde nuestras familias no nos encuentren. Nos llevaremos a Seany. Y le dejaremos correr todo lo que quiera hasta que se canse, y luego tú y yo tomaremos una larga caminata. Como Acción de Gracias. ¿Recuerdas? Y hablaremos sobre todo EXCEPTO sobre nuestros padres… O tal vez ni siquiera hablaremos. Simplemente caminaremos. Y seguiremos caminando hasta que el resto del mundo deje de existir. —Anna. —Etienne habla lentamente—. No me hiciste hacer algo que no quería hacer. Mi cara se calienta mientras el conocimiento estalla dentro de mí como dinamita. Le gusto. En verdad le gusto a Etienne. —Si me pides que te bese, lo haré. —Dice. Sus dedos aprietan mis muñecas, y me enciendo en llamas. —Bésame. —Digo. Lo hace. —La engañaba todos los días. En mi mente, pensaba en ti en formas que no podía, una y otra vez. Ella no era nada comparada contigo. Nunca antes me he sentido de esta forma por nadie. —Eres la chica más increíble que he conocido. Eres hermosa e inteligente, y me haces reír como nadie más puede. Y puedo hablar contigo. Y sé que después de todo esto no te merezco, pero lo que estoy tratando de decir es que te amo, Anna. Mucho. —¿Por favor dirías que me amas? Me estoy muriendo aquí.

Estoy empezando a pensar que tal vez está bien ser un lienzo en blanco. Tal vez está bien que mi futuro sea desconocido. Y tal vez, está bien estar inspirada en las personas que saben su futuro. Los artistas se inspiran en lienzos en blanco. Un lienzo en blanco tiene posibilidades ilimitadas.

Finally, I laugh. Genuine and normal sounding. And then my date says the best thing that he could possibly say: “It’s okay. I haven’t been on one of these [dates] in a while either.” My smile triples in size. Josh grins. “Just give me your hand.” “W–what?” “Your hand,” he repeats. “Give it to me.” I extend my shaking right hand. And – in a moment that is a hundred dreams come true – Joshua Wasserstein laces his fingers through mine. A staggering shock of energy shoots straight into my veins. Straight into my heart. “There,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.

Finally, thank you to Jarrod Perkins. I'm crying now just because I typed your name. I love you more than anyone. Ever. Times a hundred million billion. Etienne, Cricket, and Josh--they were all you, but none of them came even close to you. You are my best friend. You are my true love. You are my happily ever after. (author's acknowledgments)

For once in your life, listen to your younger sister. She's taller, and she knows better than you

For the two of us, home isn't a place. It's a person. And we're finally home." Stephanie Perkins - Anna and the French Kiss

Fo' shiz.

He closes his eyes. Our lips brush lightly. "If you ask me to kiss you , I will," he says. His fingers stroke the inside of my wrists, and I burst into flames. "Kiss me," I say. He does.

He glances down and notices that I'm still wearing a certain blue something, and, this time, it's HIS index finger that wraps underneath MY rubber band. I shiver wonderfully. "I'm never taking it off." Cricket brushes the delicate skin of my wrist. "It'll fall off." "I'll ask you for another one." "I'll give you another one." He smiles and touches his nose to mine.

He's exasperated. "I'm saying I'm in love with you! I've been in love with you this whole bleeding year!

He snuffles. Oh, no. He's not going to cry, is he? Because even though it's sweet when guys cry, I am so not prepared for this. Girl scouts didn't teach me what to do with emotionally unstable drunk boys.