If my love were an ocean,there would be no more land.If my love were a desert,you would see only sand.If my love were a star-late at night, only light.And if my love could grow wings,I'd be soaring in flight.

No one knows for certain how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same.

I can't. You can't rewrite the past.

Maybe if I forgot things once in a while, we'd all be a little bit happier.

But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.

You need to figure out what you want, Josh. If that means you need to swim against the tide to get it, at least youre aiming for something that could make you very happy.

Justin, honey, you were my very first kiss. My very first hand to hold. But you were nothing more than an average guy. And I don't say that to be mean- I don't. There was just something about you that made me need to be your girlfriend to this day I don't know exactly what that was. But it was there.. and it was amazingly strong. -Thirteen Reasons Why

It's your heart. No one else gets a say in that.

If you hear a song that makes you cry and you don't want to cry anymore, you don't listen to that song anymore. But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.

You can't stop the futureYou can't rewind the pastThe only way to learn the secret...is to press play.

History's a bitch when you're in the middle of it.

I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.

If you hear a song that makes you cry and you don’t want to cry anymore, you don’t listen to that song anymore. But you can’t get away from yourself. You can’t decide not to see yourself anymore. You can’t decide to turn off the noise in you head.

But whatever the reason, it felt surreal

Here's a tip. If you touch a girl, even as joke, and she pushes you off, leave... her... alone. Don't touch her. Anywhere! Just stop. Your touch does nothing but sicken her.

Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.

Then come to realize that you're making mountains out of molehills. Realize how petty you've become. Sure, it may feel like you can't get a grip on this town. It may seem that every time someone offers you a hand up, they just let go and you slip further down. But you must stop being so pessimistic, Hannah, and learn to trust those around you. So I do. One more time.

After your visits, I twisted my blinds shut every night. I locked out the stars and I never saw lightning again. Each night, I simply turned out the lights and went to bed.

And it feels strange, almost sad, to walk through ther empty halls. Each step I take sounds so lonely.

If there's one thing I've still got, it's my memory. Which is too bad. Maybe if I forgot things once in a while, we'd all be a little bit happier.

Sometimes we have thoughts that even we don’t understand. Thoughts that aren’t even true—that aren’t really how we feel—but they’re running through our heads anyway because they’re interesting to think about.If you could hear other people’s thoughts, you’d overhear things that are true as well as things that are completely random. And you wouldn’t know one from the other. It’d drive you insane. What’s true? What’s not? A million ideas, but what do they mean?

I needed a break...from myself.

A lot of you cared, just not enough.

Everything...affects everything

Suicide. It's something I've been thinking about. Not too seriously, but I have been thinking about it.” That's the note. Word for word. And I know it's word for word because I wrote it dozens of times before delivering it. I'd write it, throw it away, write it, crumple it up, throw it away.But why was I writing it to begin with? I asked myself that question every time I printed the words onto a new sheet of paper. Why was I writing this note? It was a lie. I hadn't been thinking about it. Not really. Not in detail. The thought would come into my head and I'd push it away.But I pushed it away a lot.

Right then, in that office, with the realization that no one knew the truth about my life, my thoughts about the world were shaken. Like driving along a bumpy road and losing control of the steering wheel, tossing you—just a tad—off the road. The wheels kick up some dirt, but you’re able to pull it back. Yet no matter how tightly you grip the wheel, no matter how hard you try to drive straight, something keeps jerking you to the side. You have so little control over anything anymore. And at some point, the struggle becomes too much—too tiring—and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy . . . or whatever . . . to happen.

I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.

What if you weren't the person I hoped you were?That, more than anything, would have hurt the most.

That's what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you're not sure what the poet's talking about. You may have an idea, but you can't be sure. Not a hundred percent. Each word, specifically chosen, could have a million different meanings.

That girl had two chances. And both of us let her down.

Put meunderneath God's sky and know medon't just look at me with your eyesTake awaythis mask of flesh and bone andsee me for my soulalone

But you can't get away from yourself. You can't decide not to see yourself anymore. You can't decide to turn off the noise in your head.

We almost bumped into each other. But your eyes were down so you didn't know it was me. And together we said it. "I'm sorry."Then you looked up. You saw me. And there, in your eyes, what was it? Sadness? Pain? You moved around and tried pushing your hair away from your face. Your fingernails were painted dark blue. I watched you walk down the long stretch of hallway. I stood there and watched you disappear. Forever.

Sometimes, there's no one around to tell you to be quiet... to be very, very quiet. Sometimes you need to be quiet when you're all alone.

I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.

I was so anxious about what kind of kiss it would be-because my friends back home described so many types-and it turned out to be the beautiful kind. You didn't shove your tongue down my throat. You didn't grab my butt. We just held our lips together...and kissed.

Unanswered? I would've answered any question, Hannah. But you never asked.

But now it’s too late.And that’s why, right at this moment, I feel so much hate. Toward myself. I deserve to be on this list. Because if I hadn’t been so afraid of everyone else, I might have told Hannah that someone cared. And Hannah might still be alive.I pull my gaze back from the neon sign.

Sierra, it's Christmastime. Put a stupid mistletoe over his head and kiss him already!

Emma:“He broke your heart! How can you call it love when hehurt you so badly?”Kellan:“It was lovebecause it was worth it.

Betrayal. It's one of the worst feelings.

Or deep down, maybe there was more. Maybe I wanted someone to figure out who wrote the note and secretly come to my rescue.Maybe. I don’t know. But I was careful never to give myself away.

You okay?”It’s a residential street, but it’s not the street of the party.I shake my head no.“Are you going to be okay?” he asks.I lean back, resting my head against the seat, and close my eyes. “I miss her.

After all, how often do we get a second chance?