Jodi Picoult
Jodi Picoult
Jodi Lynn Picoultis an American author. She was awarded the New England Bookseller Award for fiction in 2003. Picoult currently has approximately 14 million copies of her books in print worldwide...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth19 May 1966
CountryUnited States of America
perfection definitions enough
By definition, love made you better than good enough; it redefined perfection to include your traits, instead of excluding them.
choices balance too-late
There is no cosmic scale on which you can weigh your actions; you learn too late what choices ruin the fragile balance.
way sometimes eavesdropping
I shouldn't have eavesdropped, but sometimes, that's the only way to find out the truth.
memories might different
Memory is like plaster: peel it back and you just might find a completely different picture.
kissing first-kiss lasts
I could not remember my first kiss, but I could have told you Charlotte would be my last.
good-friend cost
I truly believed that the cost of success for us shouldn't be the cost of failure for a good friend.
people changed wells
People changed. Even the people you thought you knew as well as you knew yourself.
mother surface
Maybe a mother wasn't what she seemed to be on the surface.
mother dna years
Here's what I hadn't realized: the mother you haven't seen for almost thirty-six years isn't your mother, she's a stranger. Sharing DNA doesn't make you fast friends. This wasn't a joyous reunion. It was just awkward.
hurt divorce years
It was a strange thing, to still be in love with your wife and to not know if you liked her. What would happen when this was all over? Could you forgive someone if she hurt you and the people you love, if she truly believed she was only trying to help? I had filed for divorce, but that wasn't what I really wanted. What I really wanted was for all of us to go back two years, and start over. Had I ever really told her that?
strong rain eye
Once upon a time there were two sisters. One of them was really, really strong, and one of them wasn't.' You looked at me. 'Your turn.' I rolled my eyes. 'The strong sister went outside into the rain and realized the reason she was strong was because she was made out of iron, but it was raining and she rusted. The end.' No, because the sister who wasn't strong went outside into the rain when it was raining, and hugged her really tight until the sun came out again.
hurt pain broken
I always hated when my scars started to fade, because as long as I could still see them, I knew why I was hurting.
hurt alive care
I told myself that if I didn't care, this wouldn't have hurt so much - surely that proved I was alive and human and all those touchy-feely things, for once and for all. But that wasn't a relief, not when I felt like a skyscraper with dynamite on every floor.
disappointment mistake believe
It was one thing to make a mistake; it was another thing to keep making it. I knew what happened when you let yourself get close to someone, when you started to believe they loved you: you'd be disappointed. Depend on someone, and you might as well admit you're going to be crushed, because when you really needed them, they wouldn't be there. Either that, or you'd confide in them and you added to their problems. All you ever really had was yourself, and that sort of sucked if you were less than reliable.