Looking for Alaska Alaska Young Quotes

"But this is the seventh time I've been caught smoking. I just don't want—whatever. I don't want to upset my dad." (98before.3)

Alaska gives a little insight into her relationship with her dad (at this point, we don't know her mom died). Part of the mystery of Alaska in the first part of the novel is puzzling out why she avoids home and her dad as much as possible.

"Maybe you just need to tell us all why you told on Marya. Were you scared of going home or something?"

She pulled away from me and gave me a Look of Doom that would have made the Eagle proud, and I felt like she hated me or hated my question or both, and then she looked away, out the window, toward the soccer field, and said, "There's no home." (44before.23-24)

Contrast Alaska's feeling of home with what Miles felt on Thanksgiving. Remember: home isn't just a place, it's a lot of other stuff too. So when Alaska says there's no home, she's not just talking about the place—she's talking about people, emotions, and traditions too. What happens to people who are homeless?

She said, "It's not life or death, the labyrinth."

"Um, okay. So what is it?"

"Suffering," she said. "Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about the living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?"

"What's wrong?" I asked. And I felt the absence of her hand on me.

"Nothing's wrong. But there's always suffering, Pudge…Suffering is universal. It's the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about." (52before.9-13)

Even though suffering is universal, it's still pretty painful and terrifying—and the ways in which the characters respond to their pain and suffering are uniquely individual. How does Alaska respond to her suffering, and why might she respond in this way?

"I have a fake ID," she said, "but it sucks. So every time I go to the liquor store, I try to buy ten bottles of this, and some vodka for the Colonel. And so when it finally works, I'm covered for a semester. And then I give the Colonel his vodka, and he puts it wherever he puts it, and I take mine and bury it." (52before.4)

Having a fake ID implies frequent alcohol consumption. And think about why Alaska buries her alcohol—she doesn't leave it in her room, and she doesn't give it to someone for safe-keeping. What do her actions say about her ability to trust?

"Yeah. I was a little kid. Little kids can dial 911. They do it all the time. Give me the wine," she said, deadpan and emotionless. She drank without lifting her head from the hay. (2before.72)

Upon closer look, Alaska is wrapped within her guilt and suffering, not "emotionless" as she's trying to appear and be. The wine is meant to deaden her pain. Poor Alaska.

"I'll see you in Jury tomorrow at five," he announced, and then walked away. Alaska crouched down, picked up the cigarette she had thrown away, and started smoking again. The Eagle wheeled around, his sixth sense detecting Insubordination To Authority Figures. Alaska dropped the cigarette and stepped on it. The Eagle shook his head, and even though he must have been crazy mad, I swear to God he smiled.

"He loves me," Alaska told me as we walked back to the dorm circle. "He loves all y'all, too. He just loves the school more. That's the thing. He thinks busting us is good for the school and good for us. It's the eternal struggle, Pudge. The Good versus the Naughty." (99before.14-15)

Boy, is Alaska bold. Her analysis is pretty spot on though. The Eagle lives and breathes rules. Alaska thinks it's her job to break these rules, and the Eagle knows it's his job to bust the students. It's almost as if the Eagle appreciates a good rule-breaker because without the rule breakers, there would be no struggle and, arguably, no learning experiences.