Laurie Halse Anderson
Laurie Halse Anderson
Laurie Halse Anderson is an American writer best known for children's and young adult novels. She received the Margaret A. Edwards Award from the American Library Association in 2009 for her contribution to young adult literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth23 October 1961
CountryUnited States of America
breathing eating hardest
Eating was hard. Breathing was hard. Living was hardest.
heart missing wicked
You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl, Lia-Lia, caught in between the worlds. You’re a ghost with a beat- ing heart. Soon you’ll cross the border and be with me. I’m so stoked. I miss you wicked.
strong years sick
Who wants to recover? It took me years to get that tiny. I wasn't sick; I was strong.
life forever gone
Didn't help to ponder things that were forever gone. It only made a body restless and fill up with bees, all wanting to sting something.
hurt lying people
I breathe in slowly. Food is life. I exhale, take another breath. Food is life. And that's the problem. When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or a snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out. But it's a lie.
cheating girlfriend lying
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better. Then it melts. The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They don't know what just happened. They can't remember.
recovery taste
I'm learning how to taste everything.
nature heart sky
Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.
eating-disorder hips nightmare
He doesn't see my breasts or my waist or my hips. He only sees the nightmare.
elephants sweaters scarves
I need to finish this scarf/shawl/blanket thing so I can start something for Emma- a hat, maybe, or a sweater for her stuffed elephant.
hurt couple lying
You hurt her by starving yourself, you hurt her with your lies, and by fighting everybody who tries to help you. Emma can only sleep a couple of hours a night now. She's haunted by nightmares of monsters that eat our whole family. They eat us slowly, she says, so we can feel their sharp teeth.
eye blow water
I lift my arm out of the water. It's a log. Put it back under and it blows up even bigger. People see the log and call it a twig. They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs. Nobody can make it stop.
mother stupid school
I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.
mom eye thinking
No, I am never setting foot in this house again it scares me and makes me sad and I wish you could be a mom whose eyes worked but I don't think you can.