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The phone was her worst enemy and her best friend but she never knew which until she answered it.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Enemy
Best
Never
Answered
Phone
Phones
Friend
Worst
Knew

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She went around with a broken heart, and she wasn't sure who'd broken it. She thought it was herself, mostly.
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So far, she’d been her usual lame self: solitary and routine-loving, carefully avoiding any path that might lead to spontaneous human interaction. Lena Kaligaris
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Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn't get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of her apartment, walk forever if she liked, but she couldn't escape what really hurt. Tonight even the sky felt like a prison.
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I did love her. I've loved her from the first time I saw her.
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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 are not going to die, I know I said I'd let you, but I can't.
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Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.
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She knew whose love she doubted. It wasn't her parents' and it wasn't her friends: It was her own.
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Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.
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you remember what is lost, and you forget what's right in front of you.
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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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The distinction has blurred between young adult and adult books. Some of the teen books have become more sophisticated.
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Grief was like a newborn, and the first three months were hard as hell, but by six months you'd recognized defeat, shifted your life around, and made room for it.
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There are two kinds of people in this world. The kind who divide the world into two kinds of people and those who don't.
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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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Please don't judge me too much until you are older and know more things. (Spoken from mother to daughter)
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She hadn't chosen the brave life. She'd chosen the small, fearful one.
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But it was smell that carried memory.
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You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn't. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn't. The pang she felt for Tibby carried something like envy. You couldn't stand still for anything short of death, and God knew she had tried.
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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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