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Because this is what happens when you try to run from the past. It just doesn’t catch up, it overtakes … blotting out the future.
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Sometimes a question can hurt more than an answer.
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I think my biggest problem, though, at least in drafts, is not repeating myself. After eight books I get worried that a character or piece of dialog might be too much like something I've already done. So it's a challenge to keep it fresh.
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Yes, it sucked getting dumped. But wasn't it better to just be brutally honest? To admit that your feeling for someone is never going to be powerful enough to justify taking up any more of their time? I was doing him a favor, really. Freeing him up for a better opportunity. In fact, I was a practically a saint, if you really thought about it. Exactly.
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It's the same thing,' I told her. 'What is?' 'Being afraid and being alive.' 'No,' she said slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.
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The worst part was that I had things I wanted to tell my mother, too many to count, but none of them would go down so easy. She'd been through too much, between my siters-I could not add to the weight. So instead, I did my best to balance it out, bit by bit, word by word, story by story, even if none of them were true.
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Every book teaches me something about my process, and they are all challenging in one way or another.
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I really just love to read, period, whether it be books or magazines or the back of the cereal box. It's the one thing I can always count on to calm me down, take me away and inspire me, all at once.
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And while it is hard enough to take away something that makes a person happy it's even more difficult when it seems like it's the only thing.
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There are worse addictions than reality TV, chocolate and coffee.
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So I left him there alone to watch history repeat the same events retold again and again on his own.
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I walked over, my eyes scanning Luna Blu, my house, and Dave's. But it was the building behind them, that empty hotel, that had the tiniest light, provided by one word, written in fluorescent paint. Maybe it wasn't what was once there, in real life. But in this one, it said it all: STAY.
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Once she'd loved my filet mignon, my carnivore inklings, but now she was a vegan princess, living off of beans. She'd given up the cheese and bacon, sworn off Burger King, and when I wouldn't do the same she gave me back my ring. I stood there by the romaine lettuce, feeling my heart pine. Wishing that this meatless beauty still would be all mine. She turned around to go to checkout, fifteen items or less. And I knew this was the last go-round, so this is what I said. ... "Don't you ever give me no rotten tomato, 'cause all I ever wanted was your sweet potato.
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I seriously doubt that the Santa police do an underwear check." -Cora
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I took his wildness from him and tried to fold it into myself, filling up the empty spaces all those second place finishes left behind.
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You can't act like you care about someone but not let them care about you.
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But if something was really important, fate made sure it somehow came back to you and gave you another chance.
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I don't believe in failure, because simply by saying you've failed, you've admitted you attempted. And anyone who attempts is not a failure. Those who truly fail in my eyes are the ones who never try at all. The ones who sit on the couch and whine and moan and wait for the world to change for them.
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It took a lot of work to be perfect. If you didn’t want to break a sweat, there was no point in even bothering.
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For two hours I'd felt myself stretching tighter and tighter, like a rubber band pulled to the point of snapping. And now, I could feel the smaller, weaker part of myself beginning to fray, tiny bits giving way before the big break.
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Growing up means :propelling yourself forward into whatever lies ahead, one turn of the wheel at a time.
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Honesty in principle was one thing. In someone’s face, it was another.
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It hadn't even occured to me that somebody would believe mine.
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I mean, it's not surprising, really. Once you love something, you always love it in some way. You have to. It's, like, part of you for good.