Solitaire Alice Oseman Quotes

But books–they’re different. When you watch a film, you’re sort of an outsider looking in. With a book–you’re right there. You are inside. You are the main character.

All I know is that I’m here. And I’m alive. And I’m not alone.

As far as I'm concerned, I came out of the womb spouting cynicism and wishing for rain.

You like to act as if you care about nothing and if you carry on like that then you’re going to drown in the abyss you have imagined for yourself.

I think you should know that I make up a lot of stuff up in my head and then get sad about it. I like to sleep and I like to blog. I am going to die someday.

I don’t want people to be worried about me. There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t want people to try and understand why I’m the way I am, because I should be the first person to understand that. And I don’t understand yet. I don’t want people to interfere. I don’t want people in my head, picking out this and that, permanently picking up the broken pieces of me.

There’s a time and a place for being normal. For most people, normal is their default setting. But for some, like you and me, normal is something we have to bring out, like putting on a suit for a posh dinner.

Nobody is honest, nobody is real. You can't trust anyone or anything. Emotions are humanity's fatal disease. And we're all dying.

You look like you're having a midlife crisis." "It's not a midlife crisis. It's just a life crisis.

Do you think that, if we were happy for our entire lives, we would die feeling like we'd missed out on something?

There comes a point, though, when you can't keep looking after other people any more. You have to start looking after yourself.

School literally doesn’t care about you unless you’re good at writing stuff down or you’re good at memorising or you can solve bloody maths equations. What about the other important things in life?

I actually think that a lot of people are very beautiful, and maybe even more beautiful when they are not aware of it themselves.

The problem is that people don't act. The problem is that I don't act. I just sit here, doing nothing, assuming that someone else is going to make things better.

We’re so used to disaster that we accept it. We think we deserve it.

Just because something doesn't matter doesn't mean it's not worth doing.

I think it's better to just read and not study books.

You know, if you want to be happier, you have to try. You have to put in the effort. Your problem is that you don’t try.” I do try. I have tried. I have tried for sixteen years.

I hadn’t realized I was crying. I don’t really feel sad. I don’t really feel anything.

Hello, I hope somebody is listening...If nobody is listening, am I making any sound at all?

Happiness," he says, "is the price of profound thought." "Who's that quote from?" I ask. He winks. "Me.

If this is the best time of my life, I might as well end it immediately.

I think you should know that I make up a lot of stuff in my head and then get sad about it.

Nothing's going to change until you decide you want it to change.

I hate the phone. It is the worst invention in the history of the world, because if you don’t talk, nothing happens. You can’t get by with simply listening and nodding your head in all the right places. You have to talk. You have no option. It takes away my freedom of nonspeech.

we're all waiting for something to change. Patience can kill you

I really don’t do anything unless I actually want to do it. And most of the time I don’t want to do anything at all.

I don't know why I made all that fuss the other day. No that's a lie. I do know why. It's because I'm an idiot.

Nice people are vulnerable because they don’t know how to be mean.

I'm a little bit in love with everyone I meet.

Basking in the light and glory that comes with not giving a damn.

Just because someone smiles doesn’t mean that they’re happy.

Split between the green and the blue, there is an indefinable beauty that people call humanity.

It's all fake. Everyone is faking. Why does no one care about anything?

I just like individual songs. I find one song that I really love, and then I listen to it about twenty billion times until I hate it and have ruined it for myself.

I swear to God I’m a freak. I mean it. One day I’m going to forget how to wake up.

It’s just that it’s not socially acceptable to say depressing stuff out loud in the real world because people think that you’re attention seeking.

I don't understand why you can't accept things like this. If you can't accept things you don't understand, then you'll spend your life questioning everything. Then you'll have to live out your life in you own head.

If you can't accept things you don't understand, then you'll spend your life questioning everything. Then you'll have to live out your life in your own head.

So,” he says, slyly raising his eyebrows with typical Michael suavity. “You hate yourself. I hate myself. Common interests. We should get together.

It's raining." He leans on his hand. "If the sun came back out, there'd be a rainbow. It'd be beautiful." / I look out of the window. The sky is grey. "There doesn't need to be a rainbow for it to be beautiful.

Are you drunk?” “I’m a poet.

I always do this thing where I accidentally say self-deprecating stuff that makes other people feel really awkward, especially when it’s true.

Two girls walk past in gargantuan heels and dresses so tight that their skin is spilling out, and one of them says to the other, "Wait, who the fuck is Lewis Carroll?" and in my imagination I pull a gun out of my pocket, shoot them both and then shoot myself.

I’ve been looking for you,” I say. I cannot feel most of my body. For some reason he puts his hands on either side of my face and leans forward and says: “Tori Spring, I have been looking for you forever.

Sometimes I wish I were a normal human being. But I can't. I'm not. No matter how hard I try.

When people know you're mentally ill, most either want to ignore it completely or treat you like you're strange, scary or fascinating

All the people are chatting and laughing and smiling and it sort of makes me feel a bit sad, like I’m watching them through a dirty window.

Maybe you are a manically depressed psychopath.

What can I say? People aren’t observant. People don’t question stuff like this. They never think twice about déjà vu when there could be a glitch in the Matrix. They walk past tramps in the streets without even glancing at their misfortune. They don’t psychoanalyse the creators of slasher-horrors when they’re probably all psychopaths.

I don’t think my mum likes me very much. That doesn’t matter, because I don’t really like her either.

My name is Victoria Spring. I think you should know that I make up a lot of stuff in my head and then get sad about it. I like to sleep and I like to blog. I am going to die someday.

It’s important to make lots of discoveries every day.” He stands back up. “That’s what makes one day different from the next.

Happiness,” he says, “is the price of profound thought.

I wake up because the sun is in my eyes – I forgot to close my curtains last night. I forgot to do a lot of things last night. Like be a decent human being.

He raises the flask and studies it, as if he'd forgotten all about it. He looks back at me and his eyes sparkle and he bellows into the night: "Tea is the elixir of life!

This is too much mind-fuckery for this time of day. I'm not even sure I'm actually awake.

Currently with us in the room is an anorexic girl reading The Hunger Games and the irony of this is too cruel to laugh at.

I don't want people to be worried about me. There's nothing to worry about. I don't want people to try and under why I'm the way I am, because I should be the first person to understand that. And I don't understand yet. I don't want people to interfere. I don't want people in my head, picking out this and that, permanently picking up the broken pieces of me.

I wish I knew what he was reading. I know I don’t like books, but you can always tell what someone is thinking by what they’re reading.

I don't know why you won't even look me in the eye. I don't understand anything you're doing or saying, and it's killing me, because I already don't undestand a single thing about me or Michael or Becky or my brother or anything on this shitty planet.

I can't really remember when Nick and Charlie became Nick-and-Charlie, but Nick is the only one who visited Charlie when he was ill, so in my books... he's definitely alright.

All friendships are selfish. Maybe if we were all selfless, we would leave each other alone.

Nick is actually the human embodiment of a golden retriever puppy, as well as being Truham’s rugby captain and a genuinely lovely person.

When you watch a film, you’re sort of an outsider looking in. With a book—you’re right there. You are inside. You are the main character.

And there’s sort of a moment where everyone’s sitting and thinking, you know? Like that feeling when you finish watching a film. You turn off the TV, the screen is black, but the pictures are replaying in your head and you think, what if that’s my life? What if that’s going to happen to me?

We all get along fine, but I don't feel like we ever talk about anything important.

Everyone’s attractive, to be honest, even if it’s just something small, like some people have beautiful hands. I don’t know. I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet.

Exactly. Two idiots in love. Couple goals.

I think sometimes,’ says Nick, ‘you’re so scared of being a burden that it makes you terrified to ask for help. But you have lots of people around you that would be there for you, if you opened up about what help you need.

I just check my phone for the six hundred billionth time. And there’s nothing, of course. Nothing.

I don't want people to try and understand why I'm the way I am, because I should be the first person to understand that. And I don't understand yet." - p. 266

As I open the door, he murmurs: “Nothing’s going to change until you decide you want it to change.

There’s a time and a place for being normal. For most people, normal is a default. But for some, like you and me, normal is something we have to bring out, like putting on a suit for a posh dinner.

You can fly, Michael.

It's funny because it's true

I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet.

I actually think a lot of people are very beautiful, and maybe even more beautiful when they are not aware of it themselves.

It’s not a mid-life crisis. It’s just a life crisis.

Some people aren't meant for school... That doesn't mean they aren't meant for life." (Page 376)

The large majority of teenagers who attend Higgs are soulless, conformist idiots. I have successfully integrated myself into a small group of girls who I consider to be “good people,” but sometimes I still feel that I might be the only person with a consciousness, like a video game protagonist, and everyone else are computer-generated extras who have only a select few actions, such as “initiate meaningless conversation” and “hug.

Because, like, we're all waiting for something to change. Patience can kill you.

If this room were a person it would be a Kardashian on a moderate income

Firstly, I resent the fangirl idea that Draco Malfoy is some kind of beautifully tortured soul who is searching for redemption and understanding. He's essentially a massive racist. Secondly, the idea that bullying means that you fancy someone is basically the foundation of domestic abuse.

You took a heater outside? / I look at the heater. "I am freezing." / He thinks I'm insane. He's not wrong. / "That is genius. I don't even think I would do that.

There comes a point when you can't keep looking after other people anymore. You have to start looking after yourself.

Don't say that. You're a sexy beast. You could easily have had a boyfriend.

He shakes his head. “You know all the names to books, but you haven’t read a single one. It’s like it’s raining money, but you refuse to catch a single coin.

I have a pretty sad life as it is.” It takes a few seconds for the full impact of his final line to reach me. It’s the first time I’ve heard Michael Holden say something like that. Like something I would say. “Hey,” I say. I nod at him, earnestly. “So do I.

You can't always rely just on yourself, even though it can seem like an easier way to live.

I do try. I have tried. I have tried for sixteen years.

And who are you, Victoria Spring?" I can't think of anything to say because that is what my answer would be really. Nothing. I am a vacuum. I am a void. I am nothing.

He raises his arms above his head and screams: "I AM THE SOBEREST INDIVIDUAL ON THIS WHOLE PLANET!

One person can change everything,' he says. 'And you have changed everything for me.

My brother, my little brother, he's soooo perfect, but he's- he doesn't like food, like, literally doesn't like food, or, I don't know, he loves it. He loves it so much that it has to be perfect all the time, you know? And then one day he got so fed up with himself, he was like, he was so annoyed, he hated how much he loved food, yeah, so he thought it would be better if there wasn't any food. But that's so silly! Because you've got to eat food or you'll die, won't you?

Half the time you refuse to even acknowledge that I have a fucking mental illness and the other half you try as hard as possible to make me feel like I'm the last person you ever wanted as a child!

you’re Nick and Charlie.’ I laugh. ‘What does that mean?’ ‘It’s …’ He laughs too, a nervous expulsion of air. ‘You’re … it’s hard to explain. It’s like, if you had to provide evidence for soul mates, everyone would pick you two.

Tea is the elixir of life!

And there's sort of a moment where everyone's sitting and thinking, you know? Like that feeling when you finish watching a film. You turn off the TV, the screen is black, but the pictures are replaying in your head and you think what if that's my life? What if that's going to happen to me? Why don't I get that happy ending? Why am I complaining about my problems?

So I go upstairs and put on my gray school skirt that is too small, and put my old PE shorts on over my tights so you can’t see anything, and then I attempt to sort out my hair but oh, guess what, I don’t care about that either, and then I go to put some makeup on but no, wait, I also do not care what my face looks like, so I go back downstairs and pick up my school bag and leave the house with Charlie, basking in the light and glory that comes with not giving a damn about anything in the entire universe.