“That day, getting through my world was like trying to swim in a pool of warm mayonnaise while carrying two bowling balls.” FunnyComedySickTiredDayDaysMayonnaiseWingerAndrew SmithBowling Balls Author:Andrew Smith
“And you can't see around corners. so you just have to deal with it, and try to stay afloat. And things get tough. And you're supposed to grow up. And it's all a bunch of bullshit. Sorry.” LifeToughConfessionBullshitLetterGrow UpWingerAndrew SmithAfloat Author:Andrew Smith
“I know it's kind of ridiculous, but I realize now how wrong that old pervert Mr. Wellins is. Almost nothing at all is ever about sex, unless you never grow up, that is. It's about love, and maybe not having it. What an old, delusional idiot he is. But what do I know? I'm just fourteen.” LoveLifeYoungSexMeaningIdiotTeenFourteenWingerAndrew Smith Author:Andrew Smith
“You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you'll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.” Winger Author:Andrew Smith
“I said a silent prayer. Actually, silent is probably the only type of prayer a guy should attempt when his head's in a toilet.” Winger Author:Andrew Smith
“The same words that make the horrible things come also tell the quieter things about love.” LoveWingerAndrew Smith Author:Andrew Smith
“Joey threw a rock too. “Yep,” he said. “You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you’ll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.” JoeyWinger Author:Andrew Smith
“after midnight Just words. No more pictures. No charts or plays or poems. Now it's just about the words.” Winger Author:Andrew Smith
“Just as I opened the door from the boys’ floor, I stumbled onto Mr. Farrow and that freakishly unhot witch from downstairs, Mrs. Singer. Together. Standing at the landing on the tenantless girls’ floor. They were kissing, and it wasn’t one of those innocent oh-hello-you-frosty-and-cadaverous-old-hag-from-downstairs-so-nice-to-see-you-this-afternoon pecks on the cheek, either.” HumorWinger Author:Andrew Smith