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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.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Life
Dead
Playing
Alive
Bigs
Keep
Trying
Make
Bailey
Would
Promised

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When I turned fifteen, I remember my father gave me a credit card which I was allowed to use for two things: emergencies and books.
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The present no matter what I brought couldn’t change the past. The Past was set and sealed.
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She must have sensed she never really had him. That was a sadness of hers, he knew.
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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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Shy” was the sympathetic interpretation she got from older people. “Snotty” was the interpretation she got from people her own age.
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There was love expressed in the places you usually forget to look.
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I always interpret coincidences as little clues to our destiny
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He loved her for being so beautiful, and he hated her for it. He loved how she put shiny stuff on her lips for him, and he also reviled her for it. He wanted her to walk home alone, and he wanted to run after her and grab her up before she could take another step.
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He didn't seem to realize that three excuses was as good as no excuse.
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Your problem isn't the problem, it's your attitude about the problem.
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I want to go where you're going. I'm not scared of dying. I want to stay together and come back together. You said that souls cohere. I want to stay with you.
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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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Their friendship was only one aspect of their lives but it seemed to give meaning to all the others.
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You forget your victories, but you remember the losses.
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As a writer, you live in such isolation. It's hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.
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How terrible would it be to just wait there pathetically alone for him never to show up? Eudoxia's expression grew more serious. That's what you're doing anyway, my dear.
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Sometimes you couldn’t face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.
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She wasn’t sure if he wanted more from her or if he wanted less. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was always both.
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The most haunting thing was not that he didn't love her anymore. She could have accepted that eventually. The most haunting thing was that he did. He loved her from afar. He loved her in a way that was preserved in time, that couldn't be sullied. And she tended it in her careful, curatorial way.
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It was funny to hear her voice aloud. Her thoughts and perceptions usually existed so deep inside her, they rarely made it to the surface without a deliberate effort.
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