And even as I'm kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, I wish I were kissing him, wanting more, more, more, more, like I can't get enough, never will be able to get enough.

— Jandy Nelson

And I see that his brown eye has a splash of green in it and the green one a splash of brown. Like Cezanne painted them. Impressionist eyes.

— Jandy Nelson

And it's just dawned on me that I might be the author of my own story, but so is everyone else the author of their own stories, and sometimes, like now, there's no overlap.

— Jandy Nelson

Are you an artist?"" I'm a mess is what I am," he says, holding on to the building for support. "A bloody mess. You're the artist, mate." Then he's gone.

— Jandy Nelson

As I walk through the redwood trees, my sneakers sopping up days of rain, I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes, when grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.

— Jandy Nelson

Because how could he have done this? How could he have chosen to leave me here all alone?

— Jandy Nelson

Being with boys is more dangerous for me than killing a cricket or having a bird fly into the house.

— Jandy Nelson

Everyone has always said I look like Bailey, but I don't. I have gray eyes to her green, an oval face to her heart-shaped one, I'm shorter, scrawnier, paler, flatter, plainer, tamer. All we shared is a madhouse of curls that I imprison in a ponytail while she let hers ravelike madness around her head. I don't sing in my sleeper eat the petals off flowers or run into the rain instead of out of it. I'm the unplugged-in one, the side-kick sister, tucked into a corner of her shadow. Boys followed her everywhere;they filled the booths at the restaurant where she waitressed, herded around her at the river. One day, I saw a boy come up behind herald pull a strand of her long here understood this-I felt the same way. In photographs of us together, she is always looking at the camera, and I am always looking at her.

— Jandy Nelson

For days and days, the rain beat its fists on the roof of our house— evidence of the terrible mistake God had made. Each morning, when I woke I listened for the tireless pounding, looked at the drear through the window and was relieved that at least the sun had the decency to stay the hell away from us.

— Jandy Nelson

For the sun, stars, oceans, and all the trees, I’ll consider it.

— Jandy Nelson