Pyra

“I wondered why it had to be so poisonous. Oleanders could live through anything, they could stand heat, drought, neglect, and put out thousands of waxy blooms. So what did they need poison for? Couldn't they just be bitter? They weren't like rattlesnakes, they didn't even eat what they killed. The way she boiled it down, distilled it, like her hatred. Maybe it was a poison in the soil, something about L.A., the hatred, the callousness, something we didn't want to think about, that the plant concentrated in its tissues. Maybe it wasn't a source of poison, but just another victim.”
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“I leapt eagerly into books. The characters’ lives were so much more interesting than the lonely heartbeat of my own.”
― Ruta Sepetys, Out of the Easy

“No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.”
― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“Maybe the things we think we have to believe are the things that end up killing us in the end, when we figure out we were wrong, about everything.”
― Kate Ellison, The Butterfly Clues