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Quote by Lauren Oliver

“This is how Tack and Raven work: It’s their private language of push and return, argument and concession. With the cure, relationships are all the same, and rules and expectations are defined. Without the cure, relationships must be reinvented every day, languages constantly decoded and deciphered.”

Quote by Lauren Oliver

Book:Requiem

Work

Requiem

In this deeply moving narrative, the protagonist grapples with profound personal tragedy, seeking solace and healing through a journey of introspection and transformation. more

Author

Lauren Oliver
Lauren Oliver

Lauren Oliver, born in 1982, is an accomplished American author known for her profound emotional depth and imaginative storytelling. Her works have garnered widespread acclaim and have resonated with readers around the world. more

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“So Shy lowered his voice and reminded him, "She's not your little girl anymore, not like that. She may always be your , little girl in some ways, brother, but not like that. You gave me the chance, I would have told you, this is solid. We started out and it was friends. That wasn't what I wanted, it was what she needed, so I gave it to her. We built on that. The foundation is laid and it's the kind that holds fast. This is it, brother. We're livin' together. Soon's we can do it, we're movin' to a better fuckin' place so I can provide her a decent home. I'm puttin' my ring on her finger, I'm givin' her babies, and when she's laid to rest, that ring I give her will still be on her finger. I see you're accepting this now, so you need it all and there it is. I was a part of an us and I was happy. Some motherfucker killed my parents and took that from me, so life forced me to become nothin' but me. Now I'm as us again, and that's what I'll be with my woman and the family we make until the fucking day I die." "Christ, Shy," Tack whispered. "I think now you totally fuckin' feel me.”

“We had pale yellow tile in our bathroom rimmed with thin tiles of white. I’d dumped Tack’s old, mismatched towels and added new, thick emerald green ones. They were hanging on the towel rack. My eyes moved. My moisturizer and toner bottles were the deep hued color of moss. My toothbrush was bright pink, Tack’s was electric blue. There was a little bowl by the tap where I tossed my jewelry when I was washing my hands or preparing for bed. It was ceramic painted in glossy sunshine yellow and grass green. My eyes went to the mirror. My undies were cherry red lace. I grinned at myself in the mirror. I lived in color, every day, and my life was vibrant. I rubbed in moisturizer hoping our baby got his or her Dad’s sapphire blue eyes. But I’d settle if they were my green.”

“Baby,” his voice gentled, “this is me seein’ to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I... will... be... there... in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there.” Oh boy. “Are you coming on your bike?” “Yeah.” “I’m in a tight, short, little aquamarine dress with high heels. I can’t get on a bike. “You’re in a tight, short dress and high heels?” Tack asked. “Yes.” “I’ll be in there in five.”

“Oh," I whispered. "Fuck, I'm not even close." "To what?" "The heart of you. You run so fuckin' deep, I'll never get there." God. "Lookin' forward to a lifetime of diggin', babe." God! "Now you're being sweet," I accused, my voice wobbly. "Used to it yet?" "No." "You got a lifetime to get there too." Seriously. I could take no more. "Shut up." "I will, you kiss me." "Rush and/or Tabby might be here any minute." "I didn't tell you to go down on me.”