Best 121 quotes of Ally Condie on MyQuotes

And it is strange that absence can feel like presence.

Because I feel no anger toward my mother. Only loss, and loss is a feeling you can’t fight your way out of as easily.

Caring about anyone leaves you vulnerable.

Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?

Every minute you spend with someone gives them a part of your life and takes part of theirs.

Everyone has something of beauty about them. But loving let's you look, and look, and look again. You notice the back of a hand, the turn of a head, the way of a walk. When you first love, you look blind and you see it all as the glorious, beloved whole, or a beautiful sum of beautiful parts. But when you see the one you love as pieces, as why's, you can love those parts too, and it's a love at once more complicated and more complete.

Everything I dream is something simple and plain and everyday. That’s how I know they are dreams. Because the simple and plain and everyday things are the ones that we can never have

How can we appreciate anything fully when overwhelmed with too much?

I am trapped in glass and I want to break out and breath deep but I´m too afraid that it will hurt.

I can trust in my parents' love. And it strikes me that is a big thing to trust, a big thing to have had, no matter what else happens.

If you let hope inside, it takes you over. It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow. Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together. Holds you up until you don't know how to live without it anymore. To pull it out of you would kill you entirely.

I had really great parents who always gave me lots of opportunity for choice, but I didnt always realize how rare that was for a girl for them to say, You can be a mom or have a career or do both or do something we havent thought of yet.

I have tried to be righteous all my life. Yet I have never been content.

I'm just a butterfly, a mourning cloak, sealed inside a cocoon with blnd eyes and stiky wings. And suddenly I wonder if the cocoons sometimes do not open, if the butterfly inside is ever simply not strong enough to break through.

In a story, you can turn to the front and begin again and everyone lives once more. That doesn't work in real life. And I love my real people the most.

Is falling in love with someone's story the same thing as falling in love with the person himself?

I think of how perhaps the best way to fly would be with hands full of earth, so you always remember where you came from.

It is one thing to make a choice and it is another thing to never have the chance.

It's been so long since I've let myself feel anger that I don't just feel it. It covers my mouth and I swallow it down, the taste sharp and metal as though I'm gnawing through foilware.

I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.

Now that I've found the way to fly, which direction should I go into the night?

Once you want something, everything changes. Now I want everything. More and more and more.

Red is the first color of spring. It's the real color of rebirth. Of beginning.

So much of life is in the smallness of moments...but they are harder to mark. So we need the grander celebrations and occasions. People like to feel significant.

The beauty of dystopia is that it lets us vicariously experience future worlds - but we still have the power to change our own.

There is ebb and flow. Leaving and coming. Flight and fall. Sing and silent. Reaching and reached.

There is something extraordinary about the first time falling.

Theres nothing like reading about a world that feels dead to throw your own beautiful, colorful life into sharp relief.

This is a difficult balance, telling the truth: how much to share, how much to keep, which truths will wound but not ruin, which will cut too deep to heal.

When we read dystopia, we root for these people to break free because we are these people; hoping and fighting against things that are bigger than ourselves.

You cannot change your journey if you are unwilling to move at all.

Ahora comprendo cuánto valor hace falta para escoger la vida que queremos, sea cual sea.

All of the things that were shown in early studies to be good for longevity—happy marriages, healthy bodies—are ours to have. We live long, good lives. We die on our eightieth birthdays, surrounded by our families, before dementia sets in. Cancer, heart disease, and most debilitating illnesses are almost entirely eradicated. This is as close to perfect as any society has ever managed to get.

And I do not know how I can feel this much pain and survive, and at the same time know how much I have to live.

And I laugh at myself for thinking I could touch the sky.

And I'll tell her that I don't want my life to be samples and scraps. A taste of everything but a meal of nothing.

And in a way, perhaps that means I love Xander best of all.

Any other questions?" "Just one," I say. "What color are your eyes?" I want to know what he thinks, how he sees himself - the real Ky - when he dares to look. "Blue," he says sounding surprised, "they've always been blue." "Not to me." "What do they look like to you?" he says puzzled, amused. Not looking at my mouth anymore, looking into my eyes. "Lots of colors," I say. "At first I thought they were brown. Once I thought they were green..." "What are they now?" he asks. He widens his eyes a little, leans closer, lets me look as long and deep as I want. "Well?" "Everything," I tell him, "They're everything.

Blue is the most common eye color in Oria Province, but there is something different about his eyes and I'm not sure what it is. More depth? I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. If he seems to have depth to me, do I seem shallow and transparent to him?

But I didn't see it. I believed him unchanging, a stone in all good senses of the word, solid, dependable, something and someone you could build upon. But he is as we all are: light as air, transient as wisps of cloud before the sun, beautiful and fleeting, and if I ever did truly have hold of him, that has ended now.

But if you were Matched," I say softly, "what do you think she'd be life?" "You," he says, almost before I've finished. "You." We do not kiss. We do nothing bu hold on and breather, but still I know. I cannot go gently now.

But if you were matched," I say softly, "What do you think she'd be like?" "You," he says, almost before I've finished, "You.

But if you were matched," I say softly, "What d you think she'd be like?" "You," He says, almost before I've finished. "You.

Cassia. I know which life is my real one now, no matter what happens. It’s the one with you. For some reason, knowing that even one person knows my story makes things different. Maybe it’s like the poem says. Maybe this is my way of not going gentle. I love you. (Ky Markham)

close your eyes,"I say to Ky, and i bend down, his breathing above me while he waits. "There", I say and he looks at whatI've written. I LOVE YOU

Did you know Grandfather would give the poems to me?” I ask. “We thought he might,” my mother says. “Why didn’t you stop him?” “We didn’t want to take away your choices,” my mother says. “But Grandfather never did tell me about the Rising,” I say. “I think he wanted you to find your own way,” my mother says. She smiles. “In that way, he was a true rebel. I think that’s why he chose that argument with your father as his favorite memory. Though he was upset when the fight happened, later he came to see that your father was strong in choosing his own path, and he admired him for it.

Escaló hacia la oscuridad por ti ¿Estas esperandome en las estrellas?

Es curioso cómo nos aferramos a los objetos del pasado mientras aguardamos nuestro futuro.

Ever since the day of the mistake with my Match. I've never known which life is my true one. Even with the reassurances of the Offical that day in the greenspace, I think a part of me hasn't felt at peace. It was as though I saw for the first time that life could branch into different paths, take different directions.

Everyone dies. The don't all have the chance to see what they wanted most. At least I've seen the Above. At least I've known True.