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When you remembered to forget, you were remembering. It was when you forgot to forget that you forgot.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Remembering
Remembered
Forget
Remember
Forgot

More quotes by Ann Brashares

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Parents were the only ones obligated to love you from the rest of the world you had to earn it.
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She wanted him to see all of her and also none of her. She wanted him to be dazzled by the bits and blinded by the whole. She wanted him to see her whole and not in pieces. She had hopes that were hard to satisfy.
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I killed her once and died for her many times and I still have nothing to show for it. I always search for her I always remember her. I carry the hope that someday she will remember me.
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Maybe it didn’t matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. Maybe it didn’t matter if you friend was possibly dying. Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for.
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Developing characters is a strange thing. In the beginning they are abstract and I wonder how to move on from there.
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There are going to be moments of deep, deep doubts, and you have to have faith that your initial idea was good and just muddle through.
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All the things she planned to feel, the way she planned to look and seem, the appropriate things she planned to say. None of them came to pass.
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Your problem isn't the problem, it's your attitude about the problem.
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Someday was the thing he had, because it was a lot harder to ruin than today.
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Different people were good at different things, Lena mused. Lena was good at writing thank-you notes, for instance, and Effie was good at being happy.
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you remember what is lost, and you forget what's right in front of you.
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She cared about him too much, and he was a dangerous person to love. He wouldn't love her back.
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I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.
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some people fall in love over and over again while some people can only do it once.
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I love the idea of fictional worlds kind of all cohering in some way.
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As much as I'm drawn to writing about teenage girls, I like the idea of having the freedom to branch out and write about different ages, for different ages.
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She was supposed to be putting her life together right now, and all she could seem to do was throw grenades at it.
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It was like a dream you might have after death in which lost people came back to life, your friends loved you again no matter what you had done, and your failures were unaccountably forgiven.
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There was a moment in between, a moment flung free in the midst of the transition, when he made contact. That was the moment she would dwell on.
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He'd pushed her. He'd scared her. He'd besieged her. He'd vowed he wouldn't, and he did.
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