Colleen Hoover Heart Bones Quotes

Hearts don’t have bones. They can’t actually break.

Love is a lot like water. It can be calm. Raging. Threatening. Soothing. Water will be many things, but even in all its forms, it will always be water. You are my water. I think I might be yours, too.

Maybe we did grow heart bones. But what if the only way of knowing you grew a heart bone is by feeling the agony caused by the break?

Damaged people recognize other damaged people.

People sometimes still drown in the shallow end,

You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.” “What fills the holes in a soul?” Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a few seconds. “Pieces of someone else’s soul.

Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than kindness. Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as the damage does. The damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off. It stays there forever, and I feel like people can see all my damage just by looking at me.

Damaged people recognize other damaged people. It’s like a club you don’t want a membership to.

Home still feels like a mythical place I’ve been searching for my whole life.

It’s weird how your whole life can completely change in the hours between waking up and going to bed.

Beyah, My father once told me love is a lot like water. It can be calm. Raging. Threatening. Soothing. Water will be many things, but even in all its forms, it will always be water. You are my water. I think I might be yours, too. If you’re reading this, it means I’ve evaporated. But it doesn’t mean you should evaporate, too. Go flood the whole goddamn world, Beyah.

Come at me, world. You can’t damage the impermeable.

I kind of like that Samson is a closed book. You can’t really dislike a book you haven’t read yet.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

Look at us. Two lonely kids who slipped through all the cracks, but then climbed right back up to the top of the world.

I think when you’re the worst of people, finding the worst in others becomes a survival tactic of sorts. You focus heavily on the darkness in people in hopes of masking the true shade of your own darkness

Don't worry. Hearts don't have bones. They can't actually break.

I wonder what kind of upbringing is worse for a human. The kind where you’re sheltered and loved to the point that you aren’t aware of how cruel the world can be until it’s too late to acquire the necessary coping skills, or the kind of household I grew up in. The ugliest version of a family, where coping is the only thing you learn.

I feel like a waterfall around him, just spilling myself and my secrets out all over the floor.

What fills the holes in a soul?” Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a few seconds. “Pieces of someone else’s soul.

Not depressing. We’re deep. There’s a difference.

It’s weird, though, isn’t it? Why do people judge other people based on how tightly their skin clings to their bones?

Wet eyes and a dry heart.

If I have to pretend my way through this entire year, it’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to smile so much that my fake smile eventually becomes real.

Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than kindness.

Seeing the ocean in person feels almost as important as having food and shelter. It doesn’t seem farfetched to believe a charity should exist for the sole purpose of allowing people to afford a trip to the beach. It should be a basic human right. A necessity. It’s like years of therapy, rolled up into a view.

There are two different kinds of wrong. The wrong that stems from weakness and the wrong that stems from strength. You made that choice because you were strong and needed to survive. You didn’t make that choice because you were weak.

If there's nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it's time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?" Samson's eyes scroll over my face for a moment. "Yeah," he whispers. "It does. Maybe we both grew heart bones.

I know what love is, because I spent my whole life knowing what it isn’t.

I feel like a flower being taken out of the shadows and put into the sun. I’m blooming for the first time since I broke through the earth’s soil.

Secrets are my only form of currency.

It’s the luck of the draw, I guess. Most kids get the kind of parents that’ll be missed after they die. The rest of us get the kind of parents who make better parents after they’re dead. The nicest thing my mother has ever done for me is die.

You either let it consume you and you become who others think you are, or you fight it with everything in you.

It’s hard not to grow bitter when you spend so much time alone.

Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as the damage does. The damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off.

Samson makes me wonder if there’s a difference between a liar and a person who tells lies to protect someone from the truth.

Because most of the time, the fun you have that leads to the pain is worth the pain.

He's a vault and I really wish I had a key. Or some explosives.

If there’s one thing I learned from Samson this summer, it’s that holding everything in accomplishes nothing. It just causes the truth to hurt even worse in the end.

Shallow people don’t stare at the ocean as deeply as you do.

I don’t come across people who hoard secrets like I do. Most people want a listener. Someone they can spill everything to.

The nicest thing my mother has ever done for me is die.

But what if the only way of knowing you grew a heart bone is by feeling the agony caused by the break?

Sometimes when you hate someone enough, you can’t help but lie awake in bed at night, wondering what life would be like if that person were dead.

I’m drowning, Samson. And you’re the one holding me underwater.

Right now, it’s just hard to be.

Sometimes things are so pretty, it makes everything else a little less impressive.

I hear people talk about good men, but I’m starting to think that’s a myth.

There’s nothing left of me but a fucking pile of debris.

So the saying is true? Money doesn’t buy happiness?” “When you’re poor, you have things to reach for. Goals that excite you. Maybe it’s a dream house or a vacation or even a meal at a restaurant on a Friday night. But the more money you have, the harder it is to find things to be excited about. You already have your dream house. You can go anywhere in the world anytime you want to. You could hire a private chef to make you every food you ever crave. People who aren’t rich think all those things are fulfilling, but they aren’t. You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.

I take in the view for a moment. It's like a wall of ocean and beach in front of us as far as I can see. The water looks like it's alive. Heaving. Breathing. It's both magnificent and terrifying.

It’s as if he kissed me backward, from the inside out—the same way I think he looks at me sometimes. Like he sees the inside of me before he notices what’s outside.

You can fill your life with nice things, but nice things don’t fill the holes in your soul.

I kissed you because I like you.

There’s no way I can be around him all summer and not want to be consumed by him

The sky is swirled with so many colors, it's as if the earth has written a poem using clouds, communicating her appreciation to those of us who take care of her.

I've been awake for ten seconds and I've already thought of him twice.

-Don’t worry. Hearts don’t have bones. They can’t actually break' -“If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it’s time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?” -"Yeah"he whispers. “It does. Maybe we both grew heart bones.

Samson’s expression changes when I say that. There’s a sadness in him and a little bit of it seeps out. I don’t like it because apparently sadness is what I connect with. I feel like he’s tugging at my soul with that look.

Your own father doesn’t know you received a scholarship?” “Nope.” “Why haven’t you told him?” “Because it would make him feel like he did something right. And I had to work for the scholarship because he did everything wrong.

Everything is so black and white with people like Sara. The real world doesn’t operate under a simple system of right and wrong. People who have never had to trade a piece of their souls just to have food or shelter can’t understand the scores of bad decisions desperate people are forced to make.

Maybe you don’t have to know a person’s history to realize who they are in the present.

Don’t worry. Hearts don’t have bones. They can’t actually break.

I feel my heart bone heal completely

What if it hurts when we end things?” “It probably will.” “Then why would I want to subject myself to that?” “Because most of the time, the fun you have that leads to the pain is worth the pain.

Why would you let me fall for you in the first place when you knew this was going to be the end result?” He exhales sharply. “We agreed this would end in August, Beyah. We agreed to keep it in the shallow end.” I roll my eyes. “You’re the one who said people still drown in the shallow end.

Gone I met your mother while she was standing on the beach, her feet buried in the sand. I regret not falling to my knees to scoop up some of the granules into the palms of my hands. I wonder if any of what we touch has ever been stepped on by her feet. Or has every grain of sand she ever came across already washed back out to sea?

I might feel invincible sometimes, but I’m not Wonder Woman.

People sometimes still drown in the shallow end,” he whispers.

I try not to think about our impending goodbye, but it’s hard to experience something that feels this perfect without being acutely aware it’s about to be taken away.

I just wish our fall and winter fit as well as our summer.

Most people want a listener. Someone they can spill everything to.

I don't have to know anything about your past to know you're a good person.

I know very little about the pieces that make him up as a whole, but I feel like I know what kind of person all those pieces have made him. Maybe you don’t have to know a person’s history to realize who they are in the present.

I’m blooming for the first time since I broke through the earth’s soil.

This is a new feeling—the idea that maybe I’m worth having around.

Sometimes I wonder if I even want all the answers to my questions.

If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it’s time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?

Attraction leads to trust leads to love,

Trust and love and attraction and disappointment are just many of the things I’ve learned to protect myself from, but embarrassment is still one I’m working on, apparently.

I'm not a hugger. All that touching and squeezing and smiling is not on my reunion agenda.

It’s a misconception, at least in my case, that people who live in poverty scarf down food when they do get it. I’ve always savored it because I never knew when it would come again.

I think when you’re the worst of people, finding the worst in others becomes a survival tactic of sorts. You focus heavily on the darkness in people in hopes of masking the true shade of your own darkness. That’s how my mother has spent her entire life. Always seeking the worst in people. Even her own daughter.

Maybe you don’t have to know a person’s history to realize who they are in the present. And who I’ve started to realize he is on the inside makes him even more attractive on the outside. Attractive enough that I think about him almost every waking second.

It’s kind of ironic,” I say. “You have five houses, but none of them are actually your home. Your refrigerator is empty. You live out of a backpack. We surprisingly do live very similar lives.

I don’t understand humans sometimes. I hate it, because I find myself wishing that the entirety of humanity would suffer just a tiny amount more than they do. Maybe if everyone tasted a bit of what that dog has lived through, they would be more hesitant to be assholes.

I’ve gone so long trying not to feel them, I was starting to worry I no longer felt anything. But the feelings were never gone. They never left. I just forced everything to sleep so it wouldn’t hurt as much.

Home still feels like a mythical place I’ve been searching for my whole life. I can't imagine how this would feel. I've always had a place that felt like home. I would imagine if you've never had that, you would have to find your home in other people.

Marcos.” Of course it is.

it’s honestly terrifying.

I’ve always wanted a thigh gap.

Maybe that’s how Samson’s layers are peeled back—by peeling my own layers back first.

Samson isn’t at all who I thought he was when I met him.

She lives When you were born, so was your mother. As long as you live, she too will be alive.

It does. Maybe we both grew heart bones.

Samson is led out of the room, and he never even looks back at me to see the destruction he left behind.

People sometimes still drown in the shallow end.

Sometimes I believe personalities are shaped more by damage than kindness. Kindness doesn’t sink as deep into your skin as the damage does. The damage stains your soul so bad, you can’t scrub it off. It stays there forever, and I feel like people can see all my damage just by looking at me. Things

I think when you’re the worst of people, finding the worst in others becomes a survival tactic of sorts. You focus heavily on the darkness in people in hopes of masking the true shade of your own darkness.

If there’s nothing inside a heart that can break, why does it feel like mine is going to snap in half when it’s time for me to move next month? Does your heart not feel like that?” Samson’s eyes scroll over my face for a moment. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It does. Maybe we both grew heart bones.