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Sometimes. It was a good escape. Until, you know, it wasn‟t.
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All those clean, fresh starts had made me forget what it was like, until now, to be messy and honest and out of control. To be real.
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All of my stories, they don't come from my high school experience, but they're definitely based on things that happened to me in high school, or things that happened to friends of mine, or things that I wish had happened to me.
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I just stood there, looking at her. My head was spinning, my mouth dry, and all I could think about was that I wanted to go someplace safe, someplace I could be alone and okay, and that this was impossible. My old life had changed and my new one was still in progress, altering by the second. There was nothing, nothing to depend on. And why was I surprised?
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I think readers are just looking for things that maybe they recognize or can relate to in the books.
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Friends are honest with each other. Even if the truth hurts. -Maggie
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The best gifts come from the heart, not the store.
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I thought of all the times we'd been together, how I kept coming closer, then retreating, while he stayed right where he was. A constant in a world where few, if any, really existed.
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I think as a writer one of the benefits is that you can put things that you're interested in into your books. I always have put a lot of food and restaurants because I was a waitress and I love to eat.
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No matter how much time has passed, these things still affect us and the world we live in. If you don't pay attention to the past, you'll never understand the future. It's all linked together.
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The worst thing you can do if you miss or need someone is let them know it.
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I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.
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I was born in 1970 in Illinois, but all the life I remember I've spent in Chapel Hill, N.C.
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Sometimes really, really bad things happen to people, and there is no explanation and no reason whatsoever.
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I think I'm too lazy a writer to do something like historical fiction. You have to do so much research. I just write what I know.
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I don't know," I said. "Maybe you're right, and all that stuff I think I missed is overrated. Why should I even bother? What's the point really?" He thought for a moment. "Who says there has to be a point?" he asked. "Or a reason. Maybe it's just something you have to do." He moved down to start bagging while I just stood there, letting this sink in. Just something you have to do. No excuse or rationale necessary. I kind of like that.
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I've always written in first person. It gives the readers more insight.
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It's always been hard to call myself a writer. I think a part of me still thinks it's too good to be true.
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This is the problem with dealing with someone who is actually a good listener. They don’t jump in on your sentences, saving you from actually finishing them, or talk over you, allowing what you do manage to get out to be lost or altered in transit. Instead, they wait, so you have to keep going.
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And so really, you have given me no choice but to take you shopping by force.” She sighed, then reached up, dropping her sunglasses down from their perch on her head to cover her eyes. “Do you even realize how happy the average teenage girl would be in your shoes? I have a credit card. We’re at the mall. I want to buy you things. It’s like adolescent nirvana.” - Cora
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All the bitchy girls in the world are just a training ground for what men can do to you.
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It's never long distance between friends.
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It’s the things you fight for and struggle with before earning that have the greatest worth.
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Listen,"Kristy said," the truth is,nothing is guranteed. You know better than anybody." She looked at me hard,making sure I knew what she meant.I did."So don't be afraid.Be alive.