The Perks Of Being a Wallflower Online

The Perks of Being a Wallflower Quotes

From the Book and the movie we bring to you the best and most emotives quotes of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn’t try to sleep with people even if they could have. I need to know that these people exist.

So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.

Bridget who is crazy said that sometimes she thought about suicide when commercials come on during TV.

And I could see this boy doing his homework and thinking about my sister naked. And I could see them holding hands at football games that they do not watch. And I could see this boy throwing up in the bushes at a party house. And I could see my sister putting up with it.
And I felt very bad for both of them.

The fact that one of these ladies was my mom made me particularly sad because my mom is beautiful. And she’s always on a diet. Sometimes, my dad calls her beautiful, but she cannot hear him.

Maybe it’s sad that these are now memories. And maybe it’s not sad.

As much as I don't understand my mom and dad and as much as i feel sorry for both of them sometimes, i can't help but love them very much.

Sam has brown hair and very very pretty green eyes. The kind of green that doesn’t make a big deal about itself.

She was the first girl I ever wanted to ask on a date someday when I can drive.

“You take girls, for example. They’re copying their moms and magazines and everything to know how to act around guys.”

“Sometimes people use thought to not participate in life.”

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

“He’s my whole world.”
“Don’t ever say that about anyone again. Not even me.”

"I hate you."
My sister said it different than she said it to my dad. She meant it with me. She really did.
"I love you,” was all I could say in return.
"You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have."
"I'm trying not to be."

Then I turned around and walked to my room and closed my door and put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.

“Not everyone has a sob story, Charlie, and even if they do, it’s no excuse.”

Sometimes, I read a book, and I think am the people in the book.

I had to stop watching at that point because I started to feel sick, but it kept going on, and they kept doing other things, and she kept saying “no.” Even when I covered my ears, I could still hear her say that.

Sam tapped her hand on the steering wheel. Patrick held his hand outside the car and made air waves. And I just sat between them. After the song finished, I said something.
“I feel infinite.”

“You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand.”

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

If you listen to the song “Asleep,” and you think about those pretty weather days that make you remember things, and you think about the prettiest eyes you’ve known, and you cry, and the person holds you back, then I think you will see the photograph.

Maybe these are my glory days and I’m not even realizing it because they don’t involve a ball.

And the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.

I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.

I am very interested and fascinated how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.

When I told my mom about this, she just looked very sad because he could never say those things to her. Not ever. Not even when he walked her down the aisle.

The outside lights were on, and it was snowing, and it looked like magic.

Sam and Patrick looked at me. And I looked at them. And I think they knew. Not anything specific really. They just knew. And I think that's all you can ever ask from a friend.

I think it was the first time in my life I ever felt like I looked “good.” Do you know what I mean? That nice feeling when you look in the mirror, and your hair’s right for the first time in your life?

I used to listen to it all the time when I was little and thinking about grown-up things. I would go to my bedroom window and stare at my reflection in the glass and the trees behind it and just listen to the song for hours. I decided then that when I met someone I thought was as beautiful as the song, I should give it to that person. And I didn’t mean beautiful on the outside. I meant beautiful in all ways.

And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms.

It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
 because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
 and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
 and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
 took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
 with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
 and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
 because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
 and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
 because of its new paint
And the kids told him
 that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
 with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
 when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
 his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
 when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
 he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
 because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
 and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
 because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
 of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
 making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
 or even talked
And the girl around the corner
 wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
 but he kissed her anyway
 because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
 his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
 he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
 and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
 because this time he didn't think
 he could reach the kitchen.

And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.

It's kind of like when you look at yourself in the mirror and you say your name. And it gets to a point where none of it seems real. Well, sometimes, I can do that, but I don't need an hour in front of a mirror. It just happens very fast, and things start to slip away. And I just open my eyes, and I see nothing. And then I start to breathe really hard trying to see something, but I can't. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does, it scares me.

I just wanted to know what to buy my dad because I love him. And I don’t know him.

I felt so sad. I didn’t know what was going on. Mom was trying to be really nice because when I get like this, she is the one that tries real hard to keep things calm.

When I was walking up the stairs to my dad’s old room, and I was looking at the old photographs, I started thinking that there was a time when these weren’t memories. That someone actually took that photograph, and the people in the photograph has just eaten lunch or something.

I laid down on his old bed, and I looked through the window at this tree that was probably a lot shorter when my dad looked at it. And I could feel what he felt on the night when he realized that if he didn't leave, it would never be his life. It would be theirs.

My Aunt Helen was definitely killed instantly. In other words, there was no pain. There was no pain anymore.

I don’t want to start thinking again. Not like I have this last week. I can’t think again. Not ever again.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.

So, I looked up, and we were in this giant dome like a glass snowball, and Mark said that the amazing white stars were really only holes in the black glass of the dome, and when you went to heaven, the glass broke away, and there was nothing but a whole sheet of star white, which is brighter than anything but doesn't hurt your eyes. It was vast and open and thinly quiet, and I felt so small.

Sometimes, i look outside, and i think that a lot of other people have seen this snow before. Just like i think that a lot of other people have read those books before. And listened to those songs.
I wonder how they feel tonight.

But the thing is that I can hear Sam and Craig having sex, and for the first time in my life, I understand the end of that poem.
And I never wanted to. You have to believe me.

I just kept quiet and looked around. And I noticed things. The dots on the ceiling.

“This is not a time for heroes because nobody will let that happen.”

I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and i smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

And when she started becoming a “young lady,” and no one was allowed to look at her because she thought she was fat. And how she really wasn’t fat. And how she was actually very pretty. And how different her face looked when she realized boys thought she was pretty. And how different her face looked the first time she really liked a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy. And then i wondered how her face would look when she came out from behind those doors.

And I told Michelle that I was a kid and did not need an exercise machine, but I hope she was having a good night.
That’s when Michelle hung up on me. And I didn’t mind a bit.

My heart was beating really fast and I started to get nervous.

When the last song was over, I felt her breath on my chest.

All I could do was lie there and think about how much her voice changed when she asked me if she was pretty, and how much she changed when I answered.

It made me sad regardless. Not for Mary Elizabeth. Or for me. Just in general. Because I started to think that I didn’t know who Mary Elizabeth was at all.

And then I felt really sad because I thought maybe I was different from how Mary Elizabeth originally saw me, too.

I started at my reflection and the trees behind it for a long time. Not thinking anything. Not feeling anything. Not hearing the record. For hours.
Something really is wrong with me. And I don't know what it is.

And I told her that I’d been listening to the record every night and reading the e. e. cummings book.
She just said, “It’s too late, Charlie.”

I just said, “I’m sorry.”
And I really was sorry. And I know that she believed me. But when that didn’t make any difference, and there was nothing but a bad silence on the phone, I really knew it was too late.

I’d do anything not to be this way. I’d do anything to make it up to everyone. And to not have to see a psychiatrist, who explains to me about being “passive aggressive.” And to not have to take the medicine he gives me, which is too expensive for my dad. And to not have to talk about bad memories with him. Or be nostalgic about bad things.

I just wish that God or my parents or Sam or my sister or someone would just tell me what’s wrong with me. Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense.

It’s like looking at all the students and wondering who’s had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.

It’s much easier not to know things sometimes. And to have french fries with your mom be enough.

They were all laughing and making sex jokes, and Susan was doing her best to laugh along with them. When she saw me approaching the group, her face went “ashen.” It was almost like she didn’t want to remember what she was like twelve months ago, and she certainly didn’t want the boys to know that she knew me and used to be my friend. The whole group got quiet and stared at me, but I didn’t even notice them. I just looked at Susan, and all I said was,
“Do you ever miss him?”

Things change. And friends leave. And life doesn’t stop for anybody.

After that, whenever I saw him around anywhere, he didn’t look like he was there. He looked like he was someplace else. And I think I knew that because that’s how people used to say I was. Maybe they still do. I’m not sure.

I almost didn’t get an A in math, but then Mr. Calo told me to stop asking “why?” all the time and just follow the formulas. So, I did. Now, I get perfect scores on all my tests. I just wish I knew what the formulas did. I honestly have no idea.

I sat down and tried to write a story.
“Ian MacArthur is a wonderful sweet fellow who wears glasses and peers out of them with delight.”
That was the first sentence.

“I would die for you. But I won’t live for you.”

I don’t know if I would mind living for Sam for a while.

And then Patrick started running after the sunset. And Sam immediately followed him. And I saw them in silhouette. Running after the sun. Then, I started running. And everything was as good as it could be.

All I hope is that my sister feels beautiful, and her new guy makes her feel beautiful.

Then, Sam walked from the bedroom straight out the front door, silently sobbing. Craig didn’t run after her. That was probably the worst part. Not that he should have tried to get back together with her, but I think he should have run after her anyway.

I never once thought that it would mean Sam might start liking me. All I cared about was the fact that Sam got really hurt. And I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn’t matter.

Then, he asked me about girls, and I told him how I really loved Sam, and how I wondered what the lady who wrote The Fountainhead would say about how I came to realize that I loved her.

“Charlie, you’re one of the most gifted people I’ve ever known. And I don’t mean in terms of my other students. I mean in terms of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I just want you to know that you’re very special… and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.”

When I was driving home, I thought about the word “special.” And I thought the last person who said that about me was my aunt Helen. I was very grateful to have heard it again. Because I guess we all forget sometimes. And I think everyone is special in their own way. I really do.

We were too young to know that the bus driver didn’t care about our song. That all he wanted to do was go home after work. And maybe sleep off the drinks he has at lunch.

The two families really don’t like each other, except for all us younger cousins because we don’t know any better.

As you enter the tunnel, the wind gets sucked away, and you squint from the lights overhead. When you adjust to the lights, you can see the other side in the distance just as the sound of the radio fades to nothing because the waves just can't reach. Then, you're in the middle of the tunnel, and everything becomes a calm dream. As you see the opening get closer, you just can't get there fast enough. And finally, just when you think you'll never get there, you see the opening right in front of you. And the radio comes back even louder than you remember it. And the wind is waiting. And you fly out of the tunnel onto the bridge. And there it is. The city. A million lights and buildings and everything seems as exciting as the first time you saw it.

She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time all day that I really wanted to clock to stop. And just be there for a long time.

She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

I don’t even remember the season. I just remember walking between them and feeling for the first time that I belonged somewhere.

I tried to notice as many details as I possibly could. Her long hair and her thin wrists and her green eyes. I wanted to remember everything. Especially the sound of her voice.

"Charlie, don't you get it? I can't feel that. It's sweet and everything, but it's like you're not even there sometimes. It's great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn't need a shoulder. What if they need the arms or something like that? You can't just sit there and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things."

“Like take their hands when the slow song comes up for a change. Or be the one who asks someone for a date. Or tell people what you need. Or what you want. Like on the dance floor, did you want to kiss me?"

“At those times, you weren't being his friend at all. Because you weren't honest with him."

I sat there very still. I looked at the floor. I didn't say anything. Very uncomfortable.

“If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it too. I want them to be able to do whatever they want around me.”

“So why would I care whether or not he loved me when he didn't really even know me?"

“But right now I’m here with you. And I want to know where you are, what you need, and what you want to do.”

So, I kissed her. And she kissed me back. And we lay down on the floor and kept kissing. And it was soft. And we made quiet noises. And kept silent. And still.

And it was so beautiful. She was so beautiful.

I loved Sam. And we were together. And I was ruining it. Just ruining it. Just terrible. I felt so terrible.

“I can’t do that anymore. I’m sorry.” I said.
“It’s okay, Charlie. Just go to sleep.” Sam said.
But I wasn’t talking to Sam anymore. I was talking to someone else.

Everything was in slow motion. The sound was thick. And she was doing what Sam was doing.

But it still felt like a good-bye rather than a “see ya.” The thing was, I didn’t cry. I didn’t know what I felt.
Finally, Sam climbed into her pickup, and Patrick started it up. And a great song was playing. And everyone smiled. Including me. But I wasn’t there anymore.
It wasn’t until I couldn’t see the cars that I came back and things started feeling bad again. But this time, they felt much worse.

And I could hear all these songs on the radio, but the radio wasn’t on. And when I got into the driveway, I think I forgot to turn off the car. I just went to the couch in the family room where the TV is. And I could see the TV shows, but the TV wasn’t on.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like all I can do is keep writing this gibberish to keep from breaking apart.

I’m starting to feel like what I dreamt about her last night was true. And my psychiatrist’s questions weren’t weird after all.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I know other people have it a lot worse. I do know that, but it’s crashing in anyway, and I just can’t stop thinking that the little kid eating french fries with his mom in the shopping mall is going to grow up and hit my sister. I’d do anything not to think that. I know I’m thinking too fast again, and it’s all in my head like the trance, but it’s there, and it won’t go away. I just keep seeing him, and he keeps hitting my sister, and he won’t stop, and I want him to stop because he doesn’t mean it, but he just doesn’t listen, and I don’t know what to do.
I’m sorry, but I have to stop this letter now.

The doctor told me that my mother and father found me sitting on the couch in the family room. I was completely naked, just watching the television, which wasn’t on. I wouldn’t speak or snap out of it, they said.

And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn’t do or what they didn’t know. I don’t know. I guess there would always be someone to blame.

And God for not stopping all this and things that are much worse. And I did do that for a while, but then I just couldn’t anymore. Because it wasn’t going anywhere. Because it wasn’t the point.

I’m not the way I am because of what I dreamt or remembered about my anut Helen. That’s what I figured out when things got quiet. And I think that’s very important to know. It made things feel clear and together. Don’t get me wrong. I know what happened was important. And I needed to remember it.

So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.

I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I won't tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldn't change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesn't really change the fact that you have what you have.

Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Like Sam sad. Because it's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.

As we were approaching the tunnel, I listened to the music and thought about all the things that people have said to me over the past year. I thought about Bill telling me I was special. And my sister saying she loved me. And my mom, too. And even my dad and brother when I was in the hospital. I thought about Patrick calling me his friend. And I thought about Same telling me to do things. To really be there.

But mostly, I was crying because I was suddenly very aware of the fact that it was me standing up in that tunnel with the wind over my face. Not caring if I saw downtown. Not even thinking about it. Because I was standing in the tunnel. And I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite.

Please believe that things are good with me, and even when they’re not, they will be soon enough.

If you read the book before maybe you are crying beacuse you remember how fantastic the quotes are, here are some quotes in images from Tumblr to see more visual quotes of the movie: