Jasper Jones Quotes
Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey
Sorry means you feel the pulse of other people's pain as well as your own, and saying it means you take
a share of it. And so it binds us together, makes us trodden and sodden as one another. Sorry is a lot of
things. It's a hole refilled. A debt repaid. Sorry is the wake of misdeed. It's the crippling ripple of
consequence. Sorry is sadness, just as knowing is sadness. Sorry is sometimes self-pity. But Sorry,
really, is not about you. It's theirs to take or leave.
Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that
begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won't settle until things are set right and true.
Sorry doesn't take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It's
an offering. A gift.”
“I don't understand a thing about this world: about people, and why they do the things they do. The
more I find out, the more I uncover, the more I know, the less I understand.”
“I never understood why you would ever feel the need to shoot the fish in the barrel. I mean, they're in
a barrel, you've already caught them. The hard work's done, they can't escape. So if you want them
dead, just drain the water out. Why bring guns into it?”
“Batman doesn't have any superpowers. He's not superhuman. He's not super. So therefore he can't be a
superhero.”
“You need to understand that truth is stranger than fiction. Listen: people are willing to swallow any
old tripe as long as you say it without flinching. They want to be told stuff. And they don't want to
doubt you either. It's too hard.”
“What I'm feeling, I think, is joy. And it's been some time since I've felt that blinkered rush of
happiness, This might be one of those rare events that lasts, one that'll be remembered and recalled as
months and years wind and ravel. One of those sweet, significant moments that leaves a footprint in
your mind. A photograph couldn't ever tell its story. It's like something you have to live to understand.
One of those freak collisions of fizzing meteors and looming celestial bodies and floating debris and
one single beautiful red ball that bursts into your life and through your body like an enormous firework.
Where things shift into focus for a moment, and everything makes sense. And it becomes one of those
things inside you, a pearl among sludge, one of those big exaggerated memories you can invoke at any
moment to peel away a little layer of how you felt, like a lick of ice cream. The flavor of grace.”
“Life might be easier if you give in a little, but it's better if you hold onto something so hard you can't
give it up.”
“Well, see, I think it's that most people don't like that lonely feeling. People don't like looking up and
feeling small or lost. That's what I think prayer is all about. It doesn't matter which stories they believe
in, they're all doing the same thing, kind of casting a line out to outer space, like there's something out
there to connect to. It's like people make themselves part of something bigger that way, and maybe it
makes them less afraid.”
“Every instance in my life, I've felt like the exact opposite of Superman. Except this time, this moment
right now. I don't care. I don't feel like a weak, insipid sissy. Because right now I know I would save
the girl. I know that I would rather risk the planet than let harm befall Eliza Wishart. I would save her
in a second. Because I can imagine her and me huddled safe together while the earth falls under evil
designs, but I can't imagine the world without her in it.”
“I feel as though I should say something profound, or enact some rite, or trade something to make it
official. I want to transfer some trinket which would allow me to say that she's my girl, some kind of
currency that proves to people that she likes me back. Something that would permit me to think about
her all the time without feeling guilty or helpless or hopelessly far away. I guess I'm just so excited, I
want to cage this thing like a tiny red bird so if can't fly away, so it stays the same, so it's still there the
next time. For keeps, like a coin in your pocket. Like a peach pit from Mad Jack Lionel's tree. Like
scribbled words in a locked suitcase. A bright balloon to tie to your bedpost. And you want to hug it
close, hold it, but not so tight it bursts.”
“How strange and abandoned and unsettled I am. Like a snowdome paper weight that's been shaken.
There's a blizzard in my bubble. Everything in my world that was steady and sure and sturdy has been
shaken out of place, and it's now drifting and swirling back down in a confetti of debris. (p30)”
“There’s no such thing as God, Charlie, at least not how they say. Just like there’s no such thing as
Zeus or Apollo or bloody unicorns. You’re on your own. And that can make you feel either lonely or
powerful. When you’re born, you wither luck out or you don’t. It’s a lottery. Tough shit or good on yer.
But from there, it’s all up to you… soon as you can walk and talk, you start makin your own luck. And
I don’t need some spirit in the sky to help me do that. I can do it on me own. But see, that’s what I
reckon God really is, Charlie. It’s that part inside me that’s stronger and harder than anything else. And
I reckon prayer is just trusting in it, having faith in it, just asking meself to be tough. And that’s all you
can do. I don’t need a bunch of bullshit stories about towers and boats and floods or rules about sin. It’s
all just a complicated way to get to that place in you, and it’s not honest either. I don’t need to trick
meself into thinking anyone else is listenin’, or even cares. Because it doesn’t matter. I matter. And I
know I’ll be alright. Because I got a good heart, and fuck this town for making me try and believe
otherwise. It’s what you come with and what you leave with. And that’s all I got.”
“My exit from the window is a little like a foal being born. It's a graceless and gangly drop, directly
onto my mother's gerbera bed. I emerge quickly and pretend it didn't hurt but afraid. I long to turn and
wedge myself through the horse's arse from which I've just fallen, to sit safe in the hot womb of my
room. But this is Jasper Jones, and he and come to me.”
“See, Batman is different. He's mortal. He's got a real life to risk. Superman just has to avoid
Kryptonite. Big deal. Superman fears nothing because outside a few very specific circumstances where
he might encounter some stupid rock, nothing can possibly do him in. Batman has the same
vulnerabilities as the rest of us, so he has the same fears as us. That's why he's the most courageous:
because he can put those aside and fight on regardless. My point is this: the more you have to lose, the
braver you re for standing up. That's why Batman is superior to Superman, and that's why I am
infinitely smarter then you.'
I am a genius. I have won.
'Pffft! Whatever. I'll bet Batman won't be too loud about his superiority when Superman is belting
seven shades of shit out of him.”
“My point is this: the more you have to lose, the braver you are for standing up.”
“I force a smile and hold up my hand, which must end up looking like some sort of strange, leery
wince, like I've just swallowed a glass of somebody's urine and I'm recommending it.”
