Warning: Spoilers ahead!
If you haven't read this yet, you have been warned! If you have read it already, then let's both fall in love with it all over again.
I have just finished reading Eleanor & Park and it wasn't difficult for me to fall in and out of love. This book will win and break hearts, people! Obviously it's not just limited to these, but I have compiled some of my favorite and unforgettable quotes here:
He was going to tell that she did a good job on her poem.
That would be a giant understatement, anyway. She was the only one in class who'd read her poem like it wasn't an assignment. She recited it like it was a living thing. Like something she was letting out.
There was something about the music in that tape. It felt different. Like, it set her lungs and her stomach on edge. There was something exciting about it, and something nervous. It made Eleanor feel like everything, like the world, wasn't what she'd thought it was. And that was a good thing. That was the greatest thing.
(p. 56 & 57)
Mondays were the best.
Today, when she got on the bus, Park actually smiled at her. Like, smiled at her the whole time she was walking down the aisle.
Eleanor couldn't bring herself to smile directly back at him, not in front of everybody. But she couldn't help but smile, so she smiled at the floor and looked up every few seconds to see whether he was still looking at her.
He remembered feeling embarrassed for her.
Now, he felt the fight rising up in his throat whenever he thought of people making fun of her.
When he thought of someone writing that ugly thing on her book...it made him feel like Bill Bixby just before he turned into the Hulk.
(p. 90 & 91)
"Hi," Eleanor said. He felt all the tension rushed out of him. Without it, he could hardly stand up.
"Hi," he breathed.
"What?" he said.
"I don't know," she said. "Hi."
Eleanor was right: she never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
"What do you want to show me?"
"Nothing, really. I just want to be alone with you for a minute."
He pulled her back to the driveway, where they were almost completely hidden by a line of trees and the RV and the garage.
"Seriously?" she said. "That was so lame."
"I know," he said, turning to her. "Next time, I'll just say, 'Eleanor, follow me down this dark alley, I want to kiss you.'"
"I know you're getting scared of getting kicked out, but are you scared of him?"
"No." She lifted up her chin. "No...I just have to lie low, you know? Like as long as I stay out of his way, I'm fine. I just have to be invisible."
"What?" she asked.
She smiled. He let go of her hands and held her face. Her cheeks were cold, and her eyes were fathomless in the dark.
She was all he could see.
Park was alive, and she was awake, and this was allowed.
He was hers.
To have and hold. Not forever, maybe—not forever, for sure—and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now, he was hers.
"You can have one of my school pictures. My mom has tons."
"You have to write something on the back," she said.
"Like, 'Hey, Eleanor, KIT, LYLAS, stay sweet, Park.'"
"But I don't L-Y like an S," he said, "And you're not sweet."
"I'm sweet," she said, affronted, and holding back his license.
"No...you're other good things," he said, snatching it from her, "but not sweet."
Photo Credit: F-luorous
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