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ya lit → delirium; lauren oliver

Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That’s what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.

I love you. Remember. They cannot take it.

Sometimes I feel as though there are two me’s, one coating directly on top of the other: the superficial me, who nods when he’s supposed to nod and says what he’s supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams… Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I’m two whole different people and I could rip apart at any second.
—  Lauren Oliver, Delirium
Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things, just sit still and let the world exist in front of you- sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes and the world pauses at its tilt. Just for a second. And if somehow you found a way to live in that second, then you would live forever.
—  Delirium