Sarah Dessen Quotes

Don't give me no rotten tomato, 'cause all I ever wanted was your sweet potato.

Something had changed in me, even if I didn't know what it was just yet. All I could think was that I felt alive for the first time.

So he didn't have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know.

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.

I was running from one problem or place to another, with no time left to study, or sleep, or just breathe. I felt pulled in all directions, fighting to keep all these obligations circling in the air above me. It was only a matter of time before something fell.

He always did the leaving. But not this time. She kept walking, and did not look back.

She bought seeds and raided nurseries and mulched and composted and spent full days with her hands full of earth, coaxing life our of the dry, dull grass my father had spent years pushing a mower over.

I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.

This was just one night, one chance to vary and see where it took me. The fireflies were probably already out: maybe it wasn’t just a season or a time but a whole world I’d forgotten. I’d never know until I stepped out into it. So I did.

I find that the more I depend on real life, the less interesting the story is. It's much more common for me to take something that almost-happened, or I wish had happened, and then follow that possibility.

It was like when you're a little kid and you run into your teacher or librarian at the grocery store or Wal-mart and it's just so startling, because it never occurred to you they existed outside of school.

If what you're asking is how I debated whether or not to love her the answer is I didn't. Not at all. It just happened. I didn't ever question it; by the time I realized what was happening, it was already done.

It was like discovering that some part of you wasn't yours at all. And it made me wonder what else I couldn't claim.

I just thought to my self, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.

So say I’m your mom.' 'What?' I said. 'I’m your mom,' he repeated. 'Now tell me you want to quit modeling.' I could feel myself blushing. 'I can’t do that,' I said. 'Why not?' he asked. 'Is it so hard to believe? You think I’m not a good role-player?' 'No,' I said. 'It’s just–' 'Because I am. Everyone wanted me to be their mother in group.' I just looked at him. 'I just… It’s weird.' 'No, it’s hard. But not impossible. Just try it.' A week earlier, I hadn’t even known what color his eyes were. Now, we were family. At least temporarily.

Usually when I finish the draft of a book, I'm sure I'll never write another one. I'm just that tired and sick of myself. But then another idea starts percolating. It usually begins with the narrator's name, then some idea that intrigues me about her life or situation. I try to ignore it as long as I can, because I know when I start writing, I'll be right back into it, every single day. But eventually, I just have to. It's a compulsion!

I wondered if it was really because he cared about me, or if now I was just another challenge.

Sometimes a question can hurt more than an answer.

This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm. "Pull open," Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, "He never remembers. It's so weird.

Suddenly, I was just sure he was going to kiss me. He was there, I could feel his breath, the ground solid beneath us. But then something crossed his face, a thought, a hesitation, and he shifted slightly. Not now. Not yet. It was something I'd done so often - weighing what I could afford to risk, right at that moment - that I recognized it instantly. It was like looking in a mirror.

Oh for God's sake,' Heather said, 'I wish you two would just go out, fail miserably as a couple, and get it over with.

Really, it had been stupid to expect anything anyway. A few late nights does not a habit, or a relationship, make.

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.

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.

We laughed ourselves silly, taking back our shared past, gently, piece by piece.

I watched my mother do what she did best, and realized there would never be a way to cut myself from her entirely. No matter how strong or weak I was, she was a part of me, as crucial as my own heart. I would never be strong enough, in all my life, to do without her.

I knew I had to keep him to myself, as I'd slowly begun to keep everything. We had secrets now, truths and half-truths, that kept her always at arm's length, behind a closed door, miles away.

Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said. Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.

Because if you were the problem, chances were you could also be the solution. The only way to find out was to take another shot.

Maybe my sister and I shared more than we thought. We were both waiting and wishing for something we couldn't completely control: I wanted to be alone, and she the total opposite. It was weird, really, to have something so contrary in common. But at least it was something.

And I felt a sudden whirl in my head, knowing this leap was inevitable, that I wasn't just standing on the cliff, toes poking over, but already in mid-air.

The worst thing you can do if you miss or need someone is let them know it.

So while it seemed like you were seeing everything, you really weren't. Just bits and pieces that looked like a whole.

Welcome to adulthood," she said. "It sucks as much as high school.

You knew the truth all along, Colie. That's all matters. You knew.

I'm just writing what I know. I've never been much of a reader of fantasy, and I think you write what you, personally, enjoy reading.

But it's strange, when you've always been told something is true, like the moon will come back. You need proof. And while you wait, you feel the entire balance of your world just tipping. It's crazy. But when it's over, and it does come back, that's the best, because it's all you want, everything narrows to just that. It's this great rush, like for that one second everything's okay with the world again. It's amazing.

But as i lay there, it only seemes like silence filling my ears. And the thing was, it was so freaking loud.

I mean, to me, freaking out is different. More of a running away, not telling anyone what's wrong, slowly simmering until you burst kind of thing.

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.

If you could just be nice, then you wouldn't have to worry about arguments at all. but being nice wasn't as easy as it seemed, especially when the rest of the world could be so mean.

Looking at her, I thought again how beautiful she was - even in jeans and a T-shirt, no makeup, she was breathtaking. So much so that it was hard to believe she could ever have looked at herself and seen anything else.

I used to worry I was entirely uninteresting, but the truth is I think if my life was more exciting I'd never have any time to write.

You didn't fail. You just opted out. There's a difference.

It's harder that in looks," I told him when I finally got back in the car. "Most things are.

Everything always gets crazy at the end. You just have to keep going, regardless of how awful it gets. So that's what I do.

Because' I repeated, as a breeze blew over us, "sometimes things just happen. That aren't expected. Or on the list." "Such as?" he asked "I don't know," I said, frustrated. "That's the point. It would be out of the blue, taking us by surprise. Something we might not be prepared for." "But we will be prepared," he said, confused. "We'll have the list.

I always have a goal, even if I keep it to myself. It allows me to keep pushing myself.