Sarah Dessen Quotes
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In a way, I was almost happy to see her. The worst part of me, out in the flesh. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call her a name other than my own.
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I hoped this was true. Even if it wasn‟t, all I could do was hand over what I could, with the hope of something in return. But of course, this was easier said than done.
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It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.
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It's not always easy being her daughter.' I think,' she said, 'sometimes it's hard no matter whose daughter you are.
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Says the girl with no thyme.
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I'd chosen instead to just change my route, go miles out of the way, as if avoiding it would make it go away once and for all.
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Like I, of all people, didn't know better than to lead a total stranger to the point where they could hurt me most, knowing how easily they'd be able to find their way back to it.
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Family isnt about blood relationships, its about the meaning behind them. I relize now that sharing chromosoms is not the only way to having a family, its about the friendship behind it.
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My dad is a retired Shakespeare professor, my mother a retired classicist. Suffice to say I grew up in a house full of books, where reading was encouraged if not required.
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He's getting dumped. And he doesn't even know it yet. He's probably eating a cheeseburger or flossing or picking up his dry cleaning, and he has no idea. No inkling.
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Wes wants to be with Macy. And Macy, whether she'll admit it or not, wants to be with Wes. And yet they're not together, which is not only unjust, but when you think about it, tragical!
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It was amazing how you could get so far from where you'd planned, and yet find it was exactly were you needed to be.
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All I'd ever wanted was to forget. but even when I thought I had, pieces had kept emerging, like bits of wood floating up to the surface that only hint at the shipwreck below.
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We both know the limits of this relationship. It's understood. And as long as we're both comfortablewith that, nobody gets hurt. It's basic.
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If someone is really close with you, your getting upset or them getting upset is okay, and they don't change because of it. It's just part of the relationship. It happens. You deal with it.
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So many versions of just one memory, and yet none of them were right or wrong. Instead, they were all pieces. Only when fitted together, edge to edge, could they even begin to tell the whole story.
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Sometimes you dont even want to think aout what people are doing with their groceries.
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D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, Austin... and you. I'll be there soon.
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But something, somehow, had made all these paths converge. You couldn't find it on a checklist, or work it into the equation. It just happened.
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You punched him by accident.
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Lissa lowered her voice and added, "I might not even go to school anyway. I might defer and join the Peace Corps and go to Africa and shave my head and dig latrines." "Shave your head?" I said, because, really, this was the most ludicrous part of the whole thing. "You? Do you have any idea how ugly most people's bare heads are? They've got all kinds of bumps, Lissa. And you won't know until it's too late and you're flat-out bald.
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Okay, so if that's not real, what is? What counts, to you?" He thought for a second, then said, "I don't know. Just because someone's pretty doesn't mean she's decent. Or vice versa. I'm not into appearances. I like flaws, I think they make things interesting." I wasn't sure what answer I'd expected. But this wasn't it. For a second, I just sat there, letting it sink in. "You know," I said finally, "saying stuff like that would make girls even crazier for you. Now you're cuteand somewhat more attainable. If you were appealing before, now you're off the charts.
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How do you even begin to return to someone, much less convince them to do the same for you? I had no idea. More than ever, though, right then I had to believe the answer would just come to me.
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An ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.