MOVIE: Quotes from The Perks of Being a Wallflower


I finally got a chance to watch The Perks of being a Wallflower last night with a good friend and I can say that it's a good movie. I'll not make a detailed movie review of it as I know many of you haven't seen the film yet. 

Commentaries:
  • Logan Lerman's acting was showcased as he projects a traumatized boy in the movie from his superhero like character in Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief.
  • Good transition from Harry Potter princess to a leading lady like portrayal for Emma Watson.
  • Ezra Miller, you'll enjoy his happy-go-lucky life.
  • Good support of Nina Dobrev's character as Charlie's (Logan Lerman) sister.



         The Perks of Being a Wallflower has its indie taste that makes it more appealing. I can compare some scenes of the movie from a Filipino Independent Film "Ang Nawawala" directed by Marie Jamora. Both films showcased a lot of vintage things from the displays on the rooms, the music that the characters listening  to and a lot more. Charlie was traumatized when his Aunt was caught in an accident while Gibson in Ang Nawawala was also caught in a tragic experience where his twin brother accidentally fell on a cliff. Both of these characters blamed themselves for what has happened. You should watch both films for you to fully grasp what I'm talking about here. :) 


Here are some of the quotes from the movie and the book:

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. She was sincere and this puzzled the guidance counselors.
Some kids look at me strange in the hallways because I don't decorate my locker, and I'm the one who beat up Sean and couldn't stop crying after he did it. I guess I'm pretty emotional.
    "Do you always think this much, Charlie?" "Is that bad?" "Not necessarily. It's just that sometimes people use thought to not participate in life." "Is that bad?" "Yes."

    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.

    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.



It's strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book.
    Do you know what 'masturbation' is? I think you probably do because you are older than me. But just in case, I will tell you. Masturbation is when you rub your genitals until you have an orgasm. Wow!
"We accept the love we think we deserve."
    "I hate you." "I love you." "You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." "I'm trying not to be."
When the police came, they found my brother asleep on the roof. Nobody knows how he got there.
    "I feel infinite."
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.”

“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.”

Bob started passing around food. 
"Would you like a brownie?" "Yes. Thank you." -- I ate the brownie, and it tasted a little weird, but it was still a brownie, so I still liked it. But this was not an ordinary brownie. Since you are older, I think you know what kind of brownie it was.
    "He's a wallflower."
... And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.
    Patrick actually used to be popular before Sam bought him some good music.
I have decided that maybe I want to write when I grow up. I just don't know what I would write.
    I guess I could tell people about Punk Rocky and walking home from school and things like that. Maybe these are my glory days, and I'm not even realizing it because they don't involve a ball.
I am very interested and fascinated by how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.
    My other cousin has been wanting to go back to college for around seven years.

I hope it's the kind of second side that he can listen to whenever he drives alone and feel like he belongs to something whenever he's sad. I hope it can be that for him.
    I really think that everyone should have watercolors, magnetic poetry, and a harmonica.
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.

    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 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 don't think we should base so much on weight, muscles, and a good hair day, but when it happens, it's nice. It really is.
I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. 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'm just thinking too fast-- much too fast.
    I don't like my birthday. I don't like it at all.
I felt so sad. I didn't know what was going on.
    I love my mom. And this time, I told her I loved her. And she told me she loved me, too. And things were okay for a little while.


    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.

    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.
"Please, don't do this to yourself, Charlie." But I did do it to myself. Like I do every year on my birthday.
    "But there's another difference between you and her. You see... Kelly believes in women's rights so much that she would never let a guy hit her. I guess I can't say that about you." I swear to God, we almost died.
Little kids talk about the strangest things. They really do.
    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. At least that's how he's put it.
... My aunt Helen was definitely killed instantly. In other words, there was no pain. There was no pain anymore.
    I don't really know what happened next, and I never really asked. I just remember going to the hospital. I remember sitting in a room with bright lights. I remember a doctor asking me questions. I remember telling him how Aunt Helen was the only one who hugged me. I remember seeing my family on Christmas day in a waiting room. I remember not being allowed to go to the funeral. I remember never saying good-bye to my Aunt Helen.
I don't know how long I kept going to the doctor. I don't remember how long they kept me out of school. It was a long time. I know that much.
    I have to stop writing now because I am too sad.
I even made her a mix tape and left it at the grave. I hope you do not think that makes me weird.
    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.
    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.
Everyone else is either asleep or having sex. I've been watching cable television and eating jello.
    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.
    My mind played hopscotch. My brother... football... Brad... Dave and his girlfriend in my room... the coats... the cold... the winter... "Autumn Leaves"... don't tell anyone... you pervert... Sam and Craig... Sam... Christmas... typewriter... gift... Aunt Helen... and the trees kept moving... they just wouldn't stop moving... so I laid down and made a snow angel.
    The policemen found me pale blue and asleep.
I feel great! I really mean it. I have to remember this for the next time I'm having a terrible week.
    I don't know. I just had a great day. I hope you did, too.
Mary Elizabeth is a vegetarian and she hates her parents. She is also fluent in Spanish.
    Girls are weird, and I don't mean that offensively. I just can't put it any other way.
The people are being nicer in the hallways. Not to me necessarily, just in a general way.
    Everything can't be self-esteem, can it?
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
    "It's too bad you're not gay. Then again, if you were gay, I would never date you. You're a mess."
    "You know, Patrick? If I were gay, I'd want to date you."
    "Of course."
    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. 
Something really is wrong with me. And I don't know what it is.
    I know that I brought this all on myself. I know that I deserve this. 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. To make this all go away. And disappear. I know that's wrong because it's my responsibility, and I know that things get worse before they get better because that's what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.

    The credit for all of these quotes goes to the book's author, Stephen Chbosky.

    You can follow me on twitter at @i626leo


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