Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessenis an American writer who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth6 June 1970
CityEvanston, IL
world
That was the thing about being on the inside: the world was just going on, even when it seemed like time for you had stopped for good.
writing want awful
Writing a novel is like childbirth: once you realize how awful it really is, you never want to do it again.
feet choices way
Whenever you made a choice, especially one you'd been resisting, it always affected everything else, some in big ways, like a tremor beneath your feet, others in so tiny a shift you hardly noticed a change at all. But it was happening.
ideas faces firsts
Can she be divorced?" I asked. "And famous for her commercials and ideas?" She can be anything," Boo told me, and this is what I remember most, her freckled face so solemn, as if she knew she was the first to tell me. "And so can you.
forever truth-about-forever happenings
But there was only one truth about forever that really mattered, and that was this: it was happening.
nice littles too-much
After all with me & Marshall, it had never been about words or conversation, where there was too much to be risked or lost. Here, though, in the quiet pressed against each other, this felt familiar to me. And it was nice to let someone get close again, even if it was just for a little while.
gone easy
It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.
giving just-friends lock-and-key
The only trick was never giving more that you were willing to lose.
eye dark differences
That was the thing: Once, the difference between light and dark had been basic. One was good, one bad. Suddenly, though, things weren’t so clear. The dark was still a mystery, something hidden, something to be scared of, but I’d come to fear the light, too. It was where everything was revealed, or seemed to be. Eyes closed, I saw only the blackness, reminding me of this one thing, the most deep of my secrets; eyes open, there was only the world that didn’t know it, bright, inescapable, and somehow, still there.
matter stranger worst
With total strangers, it had always been my policy to expect the worst. Usually they-and those that you knew best, for that matter-did not disappoint.
said throat heard
I took in a breath. "What's the one thing you'd do," I asked. "if you could do anything?" Pass," he said. For a second I was sure I'd heard wrong. "What?" He cleared his throat. "I said, I pass." Why?" He turned his head and looked at me. "Because." Because why?" Because I just do.
perfect pieces diverse
How weird was it that so many bits and pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. 'Perfect.
world know-how knows
The world is speaking to you every day, you just don't know how to listen.
filling-up space empty
I took his wildness from him and tried to fold it into myself, filling up the empty spaces all those second place finishes left behind.