Best 32 quotes of Lisa Schroeder on MyQuotes

After Lucca died, everything shut down. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't talk. Somehow they got me on the plane and back home.

And then it hits me like a fast, open-palmed, stinging smack in the face. Having a ghost boyfriend WAS weird

And what I think is that when you’re completely alone and deep inside yourself with feelings no one else can understand, there really aren’t a hundred places to go. It’s like if I woke up one day and looked outside and saw purple trees and red grass and green dogs, is there anyone I could tell who would understand? No. There’d be no one. It’s exactly like that. He saw purple trees and red grass and green dogs while no one else did.   And maybe, he just got tired of seeing them.

Come with me,' Mom says. To the library. Books and summertime go together.

Heads: This girl Tails: That girl

He cups my face with both hands leans in, eyes lingering a sweet second before his lips are there on mine, teasing, playing, tasting, kissing. When he pulls away, I'm breathless. He nuzzles my ear. "Now that's thrilling." You got that right.

He was a character. A character who should still be here. Damn it all to hell. He should still be here.

I grab a small container of glitter. Because this day, this wonderful, beautiful, glorious day just wouldn't be complete without a little, or a lot, of g i t r l t e

I grab a small container of glitter. Because this day, this wonderful, beautiful, glorious day just wouldn't be complete without a little, or a lot, of glitter

I hear the word in the hall over and over again. Suicide. Suicide. Suicide. Did he or didn’t he? Everyone’s got a guess. Still no one knows for sure, except Gabe, but he’s not talking. Why does it even matter? He’s gone. His, ours, theirs— blame needs a place. His, ours, theirs— pain all over the place. His, ours, theirs— forgiveness missing from this place.

I know it's not the end...it's only just the beginning.

Ill lose myself in the pain. It might not make sense. But it works.

I look at him and realize, maybe I overreacted. Maybe more than once.

I'm glad for the rain...It's good camouflage.

I peel hiss tense fingers on his right hand away from the steering wheel, one two three four five. With each finger, the scowl diappears a little more. when i place his hand on my leg and gently caress it, he smiles. That's better.

I think fear is normal, Cade. Just don't let it win.

It's hard to be happy in the now when you can't stop worrying about the future. What I want is to trust that everything will work out. To believe with all my heart that I'll end up where I belong.

I’ve never been to a funeral until today. I see dazzling arrangements of red, yellow, and purple flowers with long, green stems. I see a stained-glass window with a white dove, a yellow sun, a blue sky. I see a gold cross, standing tall, shiny, brilliant. And I see black. Black dresses. Black pants. Black shoes. Black bibles. Black is my favorite color. Jackson asked me about it one time. “Ava, why don’t you like pink? Or yellow? Or blue?” ”I love black,” I said. ”It suits me.” ”I suit you,” he said. I’m not so sure I love black anymore. And then, beyond the flowers, beneath the stained-glass window, beside the cross, I see the white casket. I see red, burning love disappear forever. As we pull away, my eyes stay glued to the casket. It’s proof that sometimes life does not go on. I look around. If tears could bring him back, there’d be enough to bring him back a hundred times. That’s not what I’m thinking. I’m thinking, I hate good-byes. It’s like I was a garden salad with a light vinaigrette, and Jackson was a platter of seafood Cajun pasta. Alone, we were good. Together, we were fantastic. Memories might keep him alive. But they might kill me.

Lunch can wait. Everything can wait. Time to run.

Our mum likes to tell us that magic usually happens outside of our comfort zone.

See that's exactly why I don't want a dog." "Why?" "Because it'll just die." "Everybody dies, Brooklyn." Like that makes it okay or something.

Sometimes you want to remember. And sometimes you need to forget.

STONE Let my heart turn to stone. Maybe then I can sleep without nightmares. May be then I can eat without a stomachache. Maybe then I can read without fear of an unhappy ending. Take the knife out of my heart and,please, let it turn to stone.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND YOU When I hold a rose, I see the soft, velvety petals and smile, because tucked between those precious petals is a special gift - the one of a fragrance, pure and sweet. When you hold a rose, you see the thorns along the stem, and you frown because those thorns can bring you pain and cause you to bleed. I see the gift. You see the tragedy. More and more I fear that one of these days someone will hand me a rose and all I will see are thorns. Talk about tragedy.

There is something so comforting, so soothing about a mug of hot chocolate. No matter how old I am, I think chocolat chaud will always have the ability to take me back to special times, when all of the world's problems seemed to melt away by consuming one simple beverage.

The road to happiness is paved with good deeds for others.

Three boys. Three deaths. One school. We've made the national news. Is out school cursed? Are we a reckless bunch of fools? The media asks questions no one can answer. Kids can't stop crying.

Today there's no one here, so I find a rock and open my notebook filled with letters to Lucca, reading them, noticing how the letters decreased in frequency over the past couple of months. When i started, shortly after he died, I wrote them every day. I hurt so bad, I wanted to scream, but I couldn't, so my words on the page became a diary of the pain.

Was it hard?" I ask. Letting go?" Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real.

What I want is for you to build a bridge. A bridge that connects these two parts of my life so I don't have to choose one or the other I don't want to choose Because the thing about choices? You get something while you lose something else. If you choose wrong you risk losing everything.

When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don’t even have to kiss to have fireworks go off.

WRAP ME UP I shiver. He pulls away. "Are you cold?" he asks. "A little. Plus... you know." "What?" "Um... your kisses?" He laughs, pulls me down onto the blanket and wraps his arms and legs around me. Perfect. My kind of blanket.