Crank Ellen Hopkins Quotes

I hate this feeling. Like I'm here, but I'm not. Like someone cares. But they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here, and escape lies just past that snowy window, cool and crisp as the February air.

When you love someone, you don't want to hurt them, even if they deserve to be hurt. When you love someone, you want to hurt them, even when they don't deserve to be hurt.

Taking no chances means wasting your dreams..

Smile. Nod. Say something witty before he finds out what an incredible geek you are.

You were a summer gift, one I'll always treasure. You were a dream I never wanted to wake up from. You opened my eyes to things I'll never really see. You're the best thing that will ever happen to me.

Have you ever had so much to say that your mouth closed up tight struggling to harness the nuclear force coalescing within your words? Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside you that you didn’t dare let them escape in case they blew you wide open? Have you ever been so angry that you couldn’t look in the mirror for fear of finding the face of evil glaring back at you?

Anger is a valid emotion. It's only bad when it takes control and makes you do things you don't want to do.

Forgiveness isn’t my best thing. Easier staying pissed. But I’m tired of being pissed all the time. Tired of feeling hurt by stuff that can never be fixed because it is an indelible part of the past.

How could I share the way my heart was breaking when my confessor didn’t believe

Falling in love with someone is the surest highway to hurt that I know. When the door to love opens, the window to control closes.

We used to do coke, till "Just Say No" put the stuff out of reach. Now it's crank. Meth. The monster. It's a bitch on the body, but damn do you fly.

The problem with resolutions is they're only as solid as the person making them.

Sometimes the little things in life mean the most.

Puzzle pieces don't always connect do they?

The monster likes to talk; he jumps into your head and opens your mouth, making it spout your deepest darkest deceptions. Making you say all the things you'd rather not say, at least not in mixed company." (Ellen Hopkins)

you fly until you crash two days two nights no sleep, no food, come down off the monster YOU CRASH REAL HARD

How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?

This is unstoppable, no holds barred. This is beautiful. Crazy. A beginning. Betrayal. Addictive. Aggressive. Alive. This is something to be afraid of.

empty and closed, hovering in some frozen netherworld neither sun nor rain could thaw.

I want to open myself, let him inside. But how do I give what has already been taken?

Girls get screwed. Not that kind of screwed, what I mean is, they're always on the short end of things. The way things work, how guys feel great, but make girls feel cheap for doing exactly what they beg for. The way they get to play you, all the while claiming they love you and making you believe it's true. The way it's okay to gift their heart one day, a backhand the next, to move on to the apricot when the peach blushes and bruises. These things make me believe God's a man after all.

We kissed for about the thousandth time, No promises, no demands, Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.

Life was good before I met the monster. After, life was great At least for a little while

Funny thing, your brain, how it always functions on one level or another. How, even stuck in some sort of subconcious limbo, it works your lungs, your muscle twitches, your heart, in fact, in symphony with your heart, allowing it to feel love. Pain. Jealousy. Guilt. I wonder if it’s the same for people, lost in comas. Is there really such a thing

Why doesn't love come with an owner's manual?

Clear. Cold. Empty. Like how I feel right now. Love is strange. One minute you’re jungle fever. The next you’re Artic winter.

It's just so hard to feel good, you know?" I do know. And more than that, it's just so incredibly hard to feel.

Innocence eroded into nightmare. All because of very bad touch. Love, corrupted.

Love is like that. I could crush her beneath the weight of confession.

Alone, there is only the person inside. I've grown to like her better than the stuck-up husk of me. Alone, there is no perfect daughter, no gifted high school junior, no Kristina Georgia Snow. There is only Bree." (Ellen Hopkins)

you come home, and everyone talks at once and everyone asks questions, but no one waits for the answers.Instead they talk about themselves, what they've been up to, what they're going to do next,       as if you're a photo on the wall.And then they talk to one another, forgetting you've jsut flown in, forgetting you're in the backseat, forgetting they've already said it all.

You're a gift, one I'll always treasure. You're a dream I never want to wake up from. You open my eyes to things I'll never really see. You're the best thing that will ever happen to me. Be safe. Be smart. Stay you.

Have you ever had so much to say that your mouth closed up tight struggling to harness the nuclear force coalescing within your words? Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside you that you didn’t dare let them escape in case they blew you wide open? Have you ever been so angry that you couldn’t look in the mirror for fear of finding the face of evil glaring back at you?

With you, I am Adam. And you are my beautiful Eve. Let's run away, find our garden, live there together, happy. Naked.

It was body rush After body rush, intensity building. Touch me there.

The only thing about myself I know for sure is that I don't know anything.

I don't need more pain in my life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?

Certain of misfire, my heart threatens to stop.

Possibilities ...in the closet ...itching ...to break out ...but afraid of ...the fallout

Hot flush, raging bluch. Ice flash, instant crash.

Red and raw like my brain, unable to shut down, thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of deuling emotions.

Always before, I just said no, left it solidly there. I waver now. I want to share everything with him. Want to know what he knows, feel what he feels, share the same space he's in.

As I thought about that, I had to wonder: What will we know better about tomorrow? Who cares? Hindsight is useless.

Detailed descriptions, abstract ambitions, relevant observations, your's and mine.

Our meeting, touching, accidentally connecting immediately, interwoven hand-in-hand, heart-to-heart.

I wanted to meet the monster. Why go down if you can go up?

Your hurt swallows ine, like space swallows time, and the two intertwine. We tangle together.

So you want to know all about me, Who I am What chance meeting of brush and canvas painted the face you see? what made me despise the girl in the mirror enough to transform her, turn her into a stranger, only not.

Forever made that kiss stand out in my mind, touch my heart, make me remember a kiss so tender.

So you want to know all about me. Who I am. What chance meeting of brush and canvas painted the face you see? What made me despise the girl in the mirror enough to transform her,turn her to into a stranger, only not. So you want to hear the whole story. Why I swerved off the high road, hard left to nowhere, recklessly indifferent to those coughing my dust, picked up speed no limits,no top end, just a high velocity rush to madness.

No way to get away. No way to get away. Little change to sneak away... insanity.

Even good girls have secrets, ones even their best friends must guess.

Yeah, I know getting high isn't so smart. Ask me if I care.

God i've missed you. I can't wait to give you your present. He kisses me hotter this time, and beneath me, through his denim and mine. I can feel the promise of his Christmas gift soon to come.

Life is full of choices. We don't always make good ones.

You gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in.

You can turn your back but you can never really walk away.

Alone everything changes. Some might call it distorted reality but it's exactly the place I need to be.

Six months since we met up again we are inseparable, an intricate weave. No longer do I believe this is a temporary fling. More like total commitment. More like I have walked down the aisle, holding hands with the monster.

I feel like a goddess, jailed in her Olympus. Little wonder how the gods toyed with humans. Toyed with women, to watch them squirm, pollinate the seeds of despair; toyed with men, to satiate their Seven Deadly Sins.

I need to capture my sprite with trembling hands. Except I could crush her. Wonder how many small things of beauty - flowers, seashells, dragonflies - have met such a demise. Wonder how much fragile love has collapsed beneath the weight of confession.

My body Healed quickly. But the wound to my psyche was deep. Wide. First aid, too little, too late, left me hemorrhaging inside, the blood unstaunched by psychological bandage or love's healing magic. Eventually it scabbed over, a thick, ugly welt of memory. I work to conceal it, but no matter how hard I try, once in a while something makes me pick at it until the scarring bleeds. In my arms, Ashante cries, innocence ripped apart by circumstance. Bloodied by inhuman will. Time will prove a tourniquet. But she will always be at risk of infection.

I mean, who wants to trudge through life, doing everything just right? Taking no chances means wasting your dreams.

Then I said it. He said it too. I love you. And everything that went before meant nothing.

I've Got A Little Problem And I'm not really sure how to fix it. Not really sure I need to. Not really sure I could. Life is pretty good. But once in a while, uninvited and uninitiated anger invades me. It starts, a tiny gnaw at the back of my brain. Like a migraine except without pain. They say headaches blossom, but this isn't so much a blooming as a bleeding. Irritation bleeds into rage, seethes into fury. An ulcer, emptying hatred inside me. And I don't know why. Life is pretty good. So, what the hell?

Would I drown saving him?

Was the fun in the fall?

Hers is the face I wear, treading the riptide, fathomless oceans where good girls drown.

Before you, I believed love was making love. Waiting only makes me love you more.

Red and raw like my heart, pried from your's, the two beating, no longer together, but a thousand miles between them when only yesterday they thumped in unison.

Cleansed, chlorinated to the point of chemical peel, sore muscles relieved, I felt almost human again. Tiptoe to my room, up a darkened hall, past closed doors, I wondered if I'd ever feel completely human again.

So You Want to Know All about her. Who she really is. (Was?) Why she swerved off the high road. Hard left to nowhere, recklessly indifferent to me. Hunter Seth Haskins, her firstborn son. I've been chocking that down for nineteen years. Why did she go on her mindless way, leaving me spinning in a whirlwind of her dust?

...Things happened when you were little. Things you don't remember now, and don't want to. But they need to escape, need to worm their way out of that dark place in your brain where you keep them stashed.

I needed to see, needed to know, needed a whole lot more.

I never went to Albuquerque expecting to find love. I thought it had found me there, followed me home. I never came home expecting to lose love in the space of one brief telephone call. Is it always so short-lived?

He did seem like a nice boy. Seeming and being are two different things.

I fell for a boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Bree was not an invention, not a stranger. Bree was the essence of me.

Have you ever had so much to say that your mouth closed up so tight, struggling to harness the nuclear force coalescing within your words?" -346

Crank, You See isn't any ordinary monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving its tentacles not just around you, but through you, squeezing not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling until you try to get away. Try, and you hunger for it grasping clutch, the way its tendrils prop you up, your need intensifying exponentially every minute you refuse to admit its being (p.469)

Love is strange. One minute you're jungle fever. The next you're Arctic winter.

Harder yet to get back up without tripping and falling all over again.

Resentment is always easier than forgiveness.

The portal to pain is caring too deeply about anyone.

Life was radical right after I met the monster. Later, life became harder, complicated. Ultimately, a living hell, like swimming against a riptide, Walking the wrong direction in the fast lane of the freeway, Waking from sweetest dreams to find yourself in the middle of a nightmare.

The problem with being grounded is it gives you a whole lot of unavoidable time to think. NOt even pulling weeds can take away your ability to plot all the varied and wonderful things you might do to get even, or at least to make up, just get a smidgen for time lost to TV and yard work and house cleaning.

You want to shout, can't you see I'm here? Can't you see I'm brand new? Can't you see me at all?

If you acquaint yourself with yourself, you don't always like the person you find inside.

Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside that you didn't dare let them escape, in case they blew you wide open?

You share a toast with me: Here's to seasonal madness, part-time relatives, and substitutes for love.

It's a bitch on the body, but damn do you fly.

Some secrets are better left kept.

No matter how much things change, others never will.

Fireworks. Snowflakes. Sunstroke and frostbite. It was all that I could ask for and completely unexpected. I expected demands. He gifted me with tenderness. I expected ego. He let me experiment. I expected disrespect. He called me beautiful. I expected him to expect perfection. He taught me all I needed to know.

They say you'll remember your first kiss forever. I will.

When you love someone, you don't want to hurt them, even if they deserve to be hurt. When you love someone, you want to hurt them, even when they don't deserve to be hurt.

...I think the more she has failed at things like relationships and parenting, the more she has cut herself off from feeling bad about those things. And if you don't let yourself feel bad, sooner or later you stop feeling good, too. You insulate yourself. Build up layers, like stacking paper, everything growing heavier. And when the weight becomes too much, those layers compress. Become hard. Sad, really, to think that Kristina has turned herself into cardboard.

Fire! Your nose ignites, flameless kerosene (and, some say, Drano) laced with ephedrine you want to cry powdered demons bite through cartilage and sinuses, take dead aim at your brain, jump inside want to scream troops of tapping feet fall into rhythm, marking time, right between your eyes get the urge to dance louder, louder, ultra gray-matter power, shock waves of energy mushroom inside your head you want to let go detonate, annihilate barriers, bring down the walls, unleashing floodwaters, freeing long-captive dreams to ride the current through arteries and capillaries, pulsing, rushing, raging torrents pounding against your heart sweeping you away

I might have been your zygote. Your fetus. Maybe even your off-spring. But I have never been your son. You have no idea what it means to be a real mother. You think nine months of discomfort and eight hours of labor gives you the right to call yourself 'Mom'? Well, bitch, you're delusional.

But how do you tell your heart, “No, don't swell with magic, you'll only burst?” How do you tell it to clamp itself off from possibilities? God knows I don't need more pain in life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?