Laurie Halse Anderson
Laurie Halse Anderson
Laurie Halse Anderson is an American writer best known for children's and young adult novels. She received the Margaret A. Edwards Award from the American Library Association in 2009 for her contribution to young adult literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth23 October 1961
CountryUnited States of America
attitude school clothes
I have entered high school with the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, the wrong attitude. And I don't have anyone to sit with.
faces pieces body
My face becomes a Picasso sketch, my body slicing into pieces.
hate heart sleep
I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don't want to die. I want to eat like a normal person eats, but I need to see my bones or I will hate myself even more and I might cut my heart out or take every pill that was ever made.
self talking voice
Lawyers on TV always tell their clients not to say anything. The cops say that thing: 'Anything you say will be used against you.' Self-incrimination. I looked it up. Three-point vocab word. So why does everyone makes such a big hairy deal about me not talking? Maybe I don't want to incriminate myself. Maybe I don't like the sound of my voice. Maybe I don't have anything to say.
adults bad-things
Some adults would rather pretend that bad things dont exist than to talk about them.
mean revision sound
Revision means throwing out the boring crap and making what’s left sound natural.
cancer wish hell
I wish I had cancer. I will burn in hell for that, but it's true.
summer dad block
A little kid asks my dad why that man is chopping down the tree. Dad: He's not chopping it down. He's saving it. Those branches were long dead from disease. All plants are like that. By cutting off the damage you make it possible for the tree to grow again. You watch - by the end of summer, this tree will be the strongest on the block.
notebook morning hate
It is my first morning of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomachache.
morning class firsts
My first class is biology. I can't find it and get my first demerit for wandering the hall. It is 8:50 in the morning. Only 699 days and 7 class periods until graduation.
sleep want wake-up
I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don’t want to die.
sports teacher zebras
I stand in the center aisle of the auditorium, a wounded zebra in a National Geographic special, looking for someone, anyone to sit next to. A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher, hired to coach a blood sport.
doors rooms appearance
To keep up appearances, I stomp my room and slam the door.
jobs cancer heart
When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time. You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside—walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack or cancer or a Mack truck to come along and finish the job. It's the saddest thing I know.