Sarah Dessen Quotes
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Love can make up for a lot.
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"I just don't know," I said, my voice sounding bumby, not like mine, "how do you help someone who doesn't want your help. What do you do when you can't do anything?"
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I would have thought this would make me feel better.. getting to be the one to leave and not the one left behind. But it didn't. Not at all.
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Self respect, Colie. If you don't have it, the world will walk all over you.
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We sat there, not talking, for a few minutes. He ate the Moon Pie; only skinny people can scarf down junk food like that. Finally, I said, "Norman?" "Yeah?" "Are you ever going to show me the painting?" "Man," he said. "You are, like, so impatient." "I am not," I said. "I've been waiting forever." "Okay, okay." He stood up and went over to the corner, picking up the painting and bringing it over to rest against the bright pink belly of one of the mannequins. Then, he handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.
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I don't talk about my books while I'm writing them: not even my husband knows what a novel's about until it's done.
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What," I said, "is that a crime here or something? Like only buying one thing at the Gas/Gro?
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Life shouldn't be about the either/or. We're capable of more than that, you know?
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Really? Screaming?” He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. But there were definitely some freak-outs on both sides. Though, to be honest, the silence was worse.” “Worse than screaming?” I said. “Much,” he said, nodding. “I mean, at least with an argument, you know what’s happening. Or have some idea. Silence is… it could be anything. It’s just –” “So freaking loud,” I finished for him. He pointed at me. “Exactly.
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"So you're always honest," I said. "Aren't you?" "No," I told him. "I'm not." "Well, that's good to know, I guess." "I'm not saying I'm a liar," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways." "How'd you mean it, then?" "I just...I don't always say what I feel." "Why not?" "Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said. "Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though."
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But as was so often the case, it was the one person missing who you thought about more than the ones who were right in front of you.
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The thing is I'm a great believer in the perfect moment. They don't come around that often.
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It takes so little to change everything. If you really thought about it, it would scare you to death.
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She was so emotional, on the verge of tears. This was what I'd wanted to prevent with all those quick disappearances, the tangledness of farewells and all the baggage they brought with them. But now, looking at Deb, I realized what else I'd given up: knowing for sure that someone was going to miss me. What happened to goodbye, Michael in Westcott had written on my Ume.com page. I was pretty sure I knew, now. It had been packed away in a box of its own, trying to be forgotten, until I really needed it. Until now.
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But the original was there as well—more jaded and rudimentary, functional rather than romantic. It fit not just the yellow house but another door, deep within my own heart. One that had been locked so tight for so long that I was afraid to even try it for fear of what might be on the other side
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Some things you don't have to tell. Some things, between sisters, are understood.
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My first signing was at my hometown independent bookstore and everyone in the world came. It was so nice. My family was there, my parents, everybody I worked with, all my friends. So I had this great first reading with a like hundred people there.
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You knew the truth all along, Colie. That's all matters. You knew.
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Even if you do make tons of new friends,” I told him, “try not to forget where you came from, okay?
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I think part of the problem sometimes is that there's so much happening in my books, to whittle it down into a single script is hard.
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Not for the first time, I wished both of us could just say what we meant. But that, like so much else, was impossible
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So finally, I decided that the best response — the safest — was none at all.
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It's not always so simple, Haven. Sometimes there isn't a good guy and a bad guy. Sometimes even the ones you want to believe turn out to be liars.
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From up above, in a plane passing over, you’d just see one little light in all this dark, with no idea of the lives that were being lived within it, and in the house beside, and beside that one. So much happening in the world, night and day, hour by hour. It was no wonder we were meant to sleep, if only to check out of it for a little while.