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It’s more that I’m afraid of time. And not having enough of it. Time to figure out who I’m supposed to be… to find my place in the world before I have to leave it. I’m afraid of what I’ll miss.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Afraid
Leave
Place
Find
Miss
Enough
Figure
Time
Supposed
World
Figures
Missing

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Everything I ever said to you was true and is true.
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she never showed girly weaknesses like cellulite or crushes. she never lingered on injustices committed against her.
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Wear them, they will make you brave.
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I'm dying with you before I'm living without you.
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How could you cleanse yourself if you couldn’t forget?
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He no longer represented someday a possibility. He represented a road not taken a road that suddenly shot so far into the distance she couldn’t see it anymore.
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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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Why does he have to be my boyfriend? Are you inferior if you don't have a boyfriend? Why does everybody have to be in love with somebody?
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Particularly beautiful people were like particularly funny-looking people, though. Once you know them you mostly forgot about it.
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Your problem isn't the problem, it's your attitude about the problem.
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Polly was pretty good at dieting, all right, but she was beginning to wonder whether you ever lost the parts of your self that you wanted to lose.
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She perched on her windowsill, gazing at the lurid sun soaking into the Caldera, trying to appreciate it even though she couldn’t have it. Why did she always feel she had to do something in the face of beauty?
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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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You just have to let people love you in the way they can
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Because she was raw and uncertain, and she liked to keep all the messy parts of herself to herself. ... As much as Lena liked to hide the mess and display the finished product, by this point she was all mess and no product.
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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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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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There was love expressed in the places you usually forget to look.
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There was nothing new in sitting on this dock, on this or that wooden bench, watching for his boat to come. In some ways, she was always waiting for him.
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Someday was the thing he had, because it was a lot harder to ruin than today.
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