Sarah Addison Allen Quotes
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We're connected, as women. It's like a spiderweb. If one part of that web vibrates, if there's trouble, we all know it, but most of the time we're just too scared, or selfish, or insecure to help. But if we don't help each other, who will?
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Her grandmother used to tell her that a pink sky meant someone in the distance had just fallen in love . . . .
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Life is about experience... You can't hold on to everything
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You'd be surprised how easy some things can be, things you never thought you'd do, when you take self-respect out of the equation.
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To Fred, those years seemed to pass like quickly skimming a book and then finding the ending wasn't what he expected. He wished he'd paid more attention to the story.
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Books can be possessive, can't they? You're walking around in a bookstore and a certain one will jump out at you, like it had moved there on its own, just to get your attention. Sometimes what's inside will change your life, but sometimes you don't even have to read it. Sometimes it's a comfort just to have a book around. Many of these books haven't even had their spines cracked. 'Why do you buy books you don't even read?' our daughter asks us. That's like asking someone who lives alone why they bought a cat. For company, of course.
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She looked like autumn, when leaves turned and fruit ripened.
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Sometimes people who had been together for a long time got to imagining that things used to be better, even when they weren't.
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Some men you know are Southern before they ever say a word," Julia said as she and Emily watched Sawyer's progress, helpless, almost as if they couldn't look away. "They remind you of something good--picnics or carrying sparklers around at night. Southern men will hold doors open for you, they'll hold you after you yell at them, and they'll hold on to their pride no matter what. Be careful what they tell you, though. They have a way of making you believe anything, because they say it that way.
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Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails.
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Adolescence is like having only enough light to see the step directly in front of you.
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But surprises were nothing new to her. Like opening a can of mushroom soup and finding tomato instead; be grateful and eat it anyway.
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My writing process is very organic. I start with an idea. I have the general story arc and the cast. But then I sit down to write, and things change.
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When people believe you have something to give, something no one else has, they'll go to great lengths and pay a lot of money for it.
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Nothing is really broke, so it's not like I can fix it. I just have to keep trying to find what I'm looking for.
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He used to believe good things happened in this kind of weather.
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There was a certain power beautiful mothers held over their less beautiful daughters.
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I lost myself trying to find happiness in things that didn't love me back.
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Those silly girls had no idea what they were really celebrating. They had no idea what it took to bring Agatha and her friends together seventy-five years ago. The Women's Society Club had been about supporting one another, about banding together to protect one another because no one else would. But it had turned into an ugly beast, a means by which rich ladies would congratulate themselves by giving money to the poor. And Agatha had let it happen. All her life, it seemed, she was making up for things she let happen.
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I've never seen you hide from anyone before. He must do something crazy to you.
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Because he knew the best way to get what he wanted was to break down what made us strongest. And our friendships were what made us strong.
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To think, after all this time, after all the searching and all the waiting, after all the regret and the time she'd spent away, she came back to find that happiness was right where she's left it. On a football field in Mullaby, North Carolina. Waiting for her.
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He was the only person in the world she was tongue-tied around, and yet the only person she really wanted to talk to.
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She was so Southern that she cried tears that came straight from the Mississippi, and she always smelled faintly of cottonwood and peaches.