About Sarah Dessen: Sarah Dessen is an American writer who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.
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.
Fine," he repeated, and I wondered why it was I kept coming back to this, again and again, a word that you said when someone asked how you were but didn't really care to know the truth.
Forever was so many different things.It was always changing; it was what everything was really all about.It was twenty minutes, or a hundred years, or just this instant, or any instant I wished would last and last.But there was only one truth about f...
I have to admit, an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it's perfect... As long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.
So many times it seemed like there were chances to stop things before they started. Or even stop them in midstream. But it was even worse when you knew in that very moment that there was still time to save yourself, and yet you couldn't even budge.
Algunas cosas no duran para siempre, pero otras sí. Como una buena canción, o un buen libro, o un buen recuerdo que se puede recuperar y contemplar en los malos momentos..
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.
A united front announcing a split.
It’s funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Somet...
Sometimes there isn't a good guy or a bad guy. Sometimes even the ones you want to believe turn out to be liars.
Accepting all the good and bad about someone. It's a great thing to aspire to. The hard part is actually doing it.
I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked down at the model again, looking at that girl and boy on the curb. Forever in that place, together.
He's very nice. He's something I replied. She considered this zipping her purse shut. Then she said Well everyone is. Everyone is Something. For some reason that stuck with me simple and yet not every since she'd said it. It was like a puzzle as well...
But in the real world, you couldnt really just split a family down the middle, mom on one side, dad the other, with the child equally divided between. It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit...
It wasn't about being happy or unhappy. I just didn't want to be me anymore.
He thought about this for a second. "True. But if you never really make friends, you probably don't have anyone to be your 2 a.m. Which would kind of suck. I just looked at him as he stirred his soup, carrots spinning in the liquid. "Your what?" "Two...
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.
Two a.m.' He swallowed, then said, "You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what, you can count on them. Even if they're asleep or it's cold or you need to be bailed out of jail...they'll come for you. It's like, the highest leve...
Fifteen minutes later, a meeting was called. "Okay, look." Deb's face was dead serious. "I know I just joined this project, and I don't want to offend anyone. But I'm going to be honest. I think you've been going about this all wrong." "I'm offended,...
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.
Despite my dad's assurances I was strangely nervous my stomach tight ever since we'd hung up. Maybe Deb had picked up on this and it was why she'd pretty much talked nonstop since I'd approached her and asked for a ride. I'd barely had time to explai...
