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Alice suspected Paul couldn’t really picture his father, just like she couldn’t picture Paul when he was away. Maybe that was the case with people you wanted more than was good for you.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Maybe
Father
Suspected
Away
Alice
Wanted
Paul
Really
Picture
Good
Case
Like
Couldn
People
Cases

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She liked the life she had. She loved habits. She craved a day with nothing in it, a long, quiet stretch of hours in the studio.
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People left a lot of things behind when they went in the water. Their clothes, their stuff, their makeup, their fixed-up hair, their voices, their hearing, their sight—at least as the normally experienced them.
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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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You carry your past with you even if you don't remember any of it.
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She wondered if maybe tragedy was what it took to make your heart capable of admitting a new member.
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For the first time she saw that the nurse's name was Tabitha.
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He had to fight. That's all he had. Not memories, not experiences, not skills. He had a will. And his will was to fight until he couldn't fight anymore.
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Everything good requires sacrifices.
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Marnie hated to see her spend so much of herself on someone who didn't care.
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Her vision of the world under the water represented a beautiful stillness, a version of heaven. It was the lost city of Lena, her alternate universe, the life she yearned for but didn't get to have.
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She was alive, and they were dead. She had to try to make her life big. As big as she could. She promised Bailey she would keep playing.
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A loving soul was always more beautiful over the long haul, but actual prettiness was fleeting.
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She'd loved him as much as he'd let her. More than he'd let her.
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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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It was probably good you couldn't flip the love switch because sometimes it was what you needed even if you didn't want it.
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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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No matter how far back you cut a willow tree, it will never really die.
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Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.
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He just wanted to look at her and know her life was marching along under the same arch of time and space as he is.
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Besides being asked why I write about young characters, I am often asked how I write about young characters. How do I throw myself across the chasm of full adulthood to relive that period? I guess I don’t, really. Age is not so much a feature of your character, as the spot where you stand for a pretty fleeting time on the arc of your life.
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