Ellen Hopkins
Ellen Hopkins
Ellen Louise Hopkinsis a novelist who has published several New York Times bestselling novels that are popular among the teenage and young adult audience...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth26 March 1955
CityLong Beach, CA
CountryUnited States of America
believe heart way
How could I share the way my heart was breaking when my confessor didn’t believe
pain heart funny-things
Funny thing, your brain, how it always functions on one level or another. How, even stuck in some sort of subconcious limbo, it works your lungs, your muscle twitches, your heart, in fact, in symphony with your heart, allowing it to feel love. Pain. Jealousy. Guilt. I wonder if it’s the same for people, lost in comas. Is there really such a thing
pain memories past
Memory is a tenuous thing. . . . flickering glimpses, blue and white, like ancient, decomposing 16mm film. Happiness escapes me there, where faces are vague and yesterday seems to come tied up in ribbons of pain. Happiness? I look for it intead in today, where memory is something I can still touch, still rely on. I find it in the smiles of new friends, the hope blossoming inside. My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.
fate cutting wish-to-die
TRIAD: Three separate highways intersect at a place no reasonable person would ever want to go. Three lives that would have been cut short, if not for hasty interventions by loved ones. Or Fate. Three people, with nothing at all in common except age, proximity, and a wish to die. Three tapestries, tattered at the edges and come unwoven to reveal a single mutual thread.
phrases care how-to-love
I still care for you, you know.. That phrase again. Everyone cares for me. They just don't know how to love me.
sweet hurt dad
Standing Here My entire world far beneath my feet, I should be filled with pride. Instead, I feel overwhelmed by a sense of defeat. Suddenly it comes to me, toes tempted to test the ledge, that there is a way out of this. Clam surety flows through my veins, and as I turn to wave good-bye, I wonder if it will hurt or if a single person will cry at my funeral. I take a deep breath, a final taste of sweet mountain air. I conjure Leona, Emily. Move my feet closer. Closer There's Grandma One, Grandma Two, and their spouses, waiting for me. I see Dad. Cara. Mommy. I screw up my courage, step over
believe ever-after happily-ever-after
Happily ever after is a concept I'll never believe in.
waiting want knows
I want to know living love. And I don't want to wait for it.
evil
Evil is not intrinsic. It's fashioned.
taken giving want
I want to open myself, let him inside. But how do I give what has already been taken?
mean love-is want
I want to know what it means to be in love. But in my dictionary 'in love' is indefinable.
different
I am different. And I don't understand exactly how. And I don't understand just why.
children moving airplane
A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. "Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us." We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.
love-you heart wings
Some people never find the right kind of love. You know, the kind that steals your breath away, like diving into snowmelt. The kind that jolts your heart, sets it beating apace, an anxious hiccuping of hummingbird wings