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Sometimes you couldn’t face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.
Ann Brashares
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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Face
Faces
Felt
Sometimes
Remembered
Sadness
Forgotten
Comfort
Couldn
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He was the strangest of strangers in that he was also her oldest friend.
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But it was smell that carried memory.
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Sometimes you need to make a mess. -Loretta, the Rollinses' hosekeeper
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Bridget cried for the leavers and the left. For the people, like herself, grimly forsaking what precious gifts they would ever get.
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Sex could be a blissful communion,. But it could also be a weapon, and its absence, sometimes, was required for the establishment of peace.
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Pain is fear, and I'm not afraid.
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She glared at him, feeling the old frustration. Sometimes in his presence she felt the deepest connection to him, and other times she felt completely alone-as though any bond to him was her own bitter imagination.
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Love yourself and your friends unconditionally .
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You couldn't erase the past. You couldn't even change it. But sometimes life offered you the opportunity to put it right.
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She remembered me.' This was his worst weakness, his most toxic drug.
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At the worst possible moment, the most painful, darkest moment when you can't take it anymore and you are afraid, that is when a feeling of peace and comfort will come over you, and it's like nothing you've ever felt.
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They needed to grieve alone was what Tibby's dad said. Lena wondered if really there was any choice in that. Everyone grieved alone.
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Carmen hated the 'life is too short rationalization. She thought it was one of the lamer excuses in the history of excuse-making. Whenever you did something because life is too short not to, you could be sure life would be just long enough to punish you for it.
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I mean putting yourself out there in the way of overwhelming happiness and knowing you're also putting yourself in the way of terrible harm. I'm scared to be this happy. I'm scared to be this extreme.
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Maybe the truth is, there's a little bit of loser in all of us. Being happy isn't having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it's about stringing together all the little things.
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She got tired of herself. She got tired of not being able to say what she wanted or do what she wanted or even want what she wanted.
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I allowed myself to suffer how jarringly destructive the present feels and how fragile the past.
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Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks- the traffic signal that said Walk the second you go there- and downticks- the itch tag at the back of your collar- that happened to every person in the course of the day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day.
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The ocean was the best place, of course. That was what she loved most. It was a feeling of freedom like no other, and yet a feeling of communion with all the other places and creatures the water touched.
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Love who you love while you have them. That's all you can do. Let them go when you must. If you know how to love, you'll never run out.
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