Best 105 quotes of Nicola Yoon on MyQuotes

According to scientists, there are three stages of love: lust, attraction, and attachment. And, it turns out, each of the stages is orchestrated by chemicals—neurotransmitters—in the brain. As you might expect, lust is ruled by testosterone and estrogen. The second stage, attraction, is governed by dopamine and serotonin. When, for example, couples report feeling indescribably happy in each other’s presence, that’s dopamine, the pleasure hormone, doing its work. Taking cocaine fosters the same level of euphoria. In fact, scientists who study both the brains of new lovers and cocaine addicts are hard-pressed to tell the difference. The second chemical of the attraction phase is serotonin. When couples confess that they can’t stop thinking about each other, it’s because their serotonin level has dropped. People in love have the same low serotonin levels as people with OCD. The reason they can’t stop thinking about each other is that they are literally obsessed. Oxytocin and vasopressin control the third stage: attachment or long-term bonding. Oxytocin is released during orgasm and makes you feel closer to the person you’ve had sex with. It’s also released during childbirth and helps bond mother to child. Vasopressin is released postcoitally. Natasha knows these facts cold. Knowing them helped her get over Rob’s betrayal. So she knows: love is just chemicals and coincidence. So why does Daniel feel like something more?

And what about the lovers who spend hours staring into each other's eyes?Is it a display of trust? I will let you in close and trust you not to hurt me while I'm in this vulnerable position. And if trust is one of the foundations of love, perhaps the staring is a way to build or reinforce it. Or maybe it's simpler than that. A simple search for connection. To see. To be seen.

And what about the lovers who spend hours staring into each other's eyes? Is it a display of trust? 'I will let you in close and trust you not to hurt me while I'm in this vulnerable position.' And if trust is one of the foundations of love, perhaps the staring is a way to build or reinforce it. Or maybe it's simpler than that. A simple search for connection To see. To be seen.

... anything can happen at any time. Safety is not everything. There's more to life than being alive.

Apparently-according to these posters, at least-only certain hairstyles are allowed to attend board meetings.

Aside from my mom, Carla, and my tutors, the world barely know I exist. I mean, I exist online. I have online friends and my Tumblr book reviews, but that's not the same as being a real person who can be visited by strange boys bearing Bundt cakes.

A universe that can wink into existence can wink out again.

Aveces las cosas que se mezclan no se pueden volver a separar, por mucho que uno quiera hacerlo.

But I like my big Afro. I also liked when my hair was longer and relaxed. I’m happy to have choices. They’re mine to make

Carla raises a single questioning eyebrow at me. I lower two nonanswering eyebrows back at her.

CARL SAGAN SAID that if you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe. When he says “from scratch,” he means from nothing. He means from a time before the world even existed. If you want to make an apple pie from nothing at all, you have to start with the Big Bang and expanding universes, neutrons, ions, atoms, black holes, suns, moons, ocean tides, the Milky Way, Earth, evolution, dinosaurs, extinction- level events, platypuses, Homo erectus, Cro- Magnon man, etc. You have to start at the beginning. You must invent fire. You need water and fertile soil and seeds. You need cows and people to milk them and more people to churn that milk into butter. You need wheat and sugar cane and apple trees. You need chemistry and biology. For a really good apple pie, you need the arts. For an apple pie that can last for generations, you need the printing press and the Industrial Revolution and maybe even a poem.To make a thing as simple as an apple pie, you have to create the whole wide world.

Dark matter is love. It's the attracting force.

Did your parents care that he was white?" "They never met him." I couldn't imagine taking him to meet my dad. Watching them talk to each other would've been tortuous. Also, I never wanted him to see how small our apartment was. In the end, I guess I really didn't want him to know me. With Daniel, it's different somehow. I want him to see all of me.

Di una cosa sono certa: i desideri generano solo altri desideri. Non c’è fine al desiderio

Dreaming is a luxury and not everyone has it.

Do you think it’s funny that both of our favorite memories are about the people we like the least now?” I ask. “Maybe that’s why we dislike them,” she says. “The distance between who they were and who they are is so wide, we have no hope of getting them back.

Every ocean deserves to be seen by you. (Olly in Everything, Everything)

Everyone’s got someplace to be. Finding God is not on the schedule. - The sun is also a star

Everything is a risk. Not doing anything is a risk. It's up to you.

Everything's a risk. Not doing anything is a risk.

Flowers for Algernon again? she asks. Doesn't that book always make you cry? One day it won't, I say. I want to be sure to be reading it on that day.

For most immigrants, moving to the new country is an act of faith. Even if you've heard stories of safety, opportunity, and prosperity, it's still a leap to remove yourself from your own language, people, and country. Your own history. What if the stories weren't true? What if you couldn't adapt? What if you weren't wanted in the new country?

From so high above it, the world seems ordered and deliberate. But I know it's more than that. And less. It is structured and chaotic. Beautiful and strange.

Growing up and seeing your parents' flaws like is losing your religion. I don't believe in God anymore. I don't believe in my father either.

Growing up and seeing your parents' flaws is like losing your religion.

Hearts don’t break. It’s just another thing the poets say. Hearts are not made Of glass Or bone Or any material that could Splinter Or Fragment Or Shatter. They don’t Crack Into Pieces. They don’t Fall Apart. Hearts don’t break. They just stop working. An old watch from another time and no parts to fix it.

He says they're not his type, but I don't really get the concept of having a type. My type is girls. All of them. Why would I limit my dating pool?

He takes a breath 'In my head I've been in love before, but it doesn't feel like it Being in love with you is better than the first time. It feels like the first time and the last time and the only time all at once

He tastes like salted caramel and sunshine. Or what I think salted caramel and sunshine taste like. He tastes like nothing I've ever experienced, like hope and possibility and future

He tells me that high school is no utopia, but I'm not convinced. What else would you call a place that exists solely to teach you about the world? What do you call a place with friends and teachers and libraries and book club and math club and debate club and any other kind of club and after-school activities and endless possibilities?

He thinks my hair smells like spring rain. I'm really trying to remain stoic and unaffected. I remind myself that I don't like poetic language. I don't like poetry. I don't even like people who like poetry. But I'm not dead inside either.

He was some exotic planet and I was his favorite satellite. But he's no planet, just the final fading light of an already dead star". pg 65 Nicola Yoon, The Sun is Also a Star

[His eyes are] Atlantic Ocean blue, just like he'd said. It's strange because of course I'd known that. But the difference between knowing it and seeing them in person is the difference between dreaming of flying and flight.

How can he not share his newfound joy with his fellow man? And it is joy. There’s a pure kind of joy in the certainty of belief. The certainty that your life has purpose and meaning.

I almost wish I hadn't met him. How am I supposed to go back to my old life, my days stretching out before me with unending and brutal sameness? How am I supposed to go back to being The Girl Who Reads?

I am not lonely, Mom," I snap. "I am alone. Those are different things.

I could stay here forever interrupting our talking with kissing, interrupting our kissing with talking.

I didn't think I was going to survive. A lot of people don't make it, but I left anyway. I left my father and my mother and my sister and my brother." She rinses the cloth, continues. "They tried to stop me. They said it wasn't worth my life, but I said that it was my life, going to go and either I was going to die or I was going to get a better life...I tell you, when I left my house that night I never felt more free. Even now, in all the time that I've been here, I never felt as free as that night.

I dream that I run away from home taking the bot I love with me. I dream that I saw the ocean and it was endless and that I could not find the end of it. I dream that I fall asleep in an unquiet room with the boy that loves me and that I dream that I've run away from home taking the boy I love with me. I dream that I saw the ocean and it was endless and I could not find the end of it. I dream that I fall asleep in an unquiet room and that I dream about the life I'm already living.

If people who were actually born had to prove they were worthy enough to live in America, this would be a much less populated country.

I kiss him to get him to stop talking. If he keeps talking I will love him, and I don't want to love him. I really don't. As strategies go, it's not my finest. Kissing is just another way of talking except without the words.

I’m kind of a contagion cryer. You know how when one person starts yawning, everyone else starts yawning too? Or when someone vomits, the smell makes you want to hurl? I’m like that, except with crying.

I'm trying to see Olly in his darkened room when the Bundt leaps from the sill and plunges to the ground. I gasp. Did the cake just commit suicide?

I'm working on a poem about heartbreak that I've been working on forever (give or take). The problem is that I've never had my heart broken, so I'm having a hard time.

Into all lives a little turbulence must fall

Is it always like that?" I ask, breathless. “No,” he says. “It's never like that.” I hear the wonder in his voice. And just like that, everything changes.

THE LITTLE PRINCE BY ANTOINE DE SAINT-EXUPERY Spoiler alert: Love is worth everything. Everything.

I think we're all connected, everyone on earth.

It's hard to come for someplace or someone you're not proud of.

It's not up to you to help other people fit you into a box.