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Bridget's anger evaporated and the sadness came back. The anger was easier. She owned and contolled it, whereas the sadness owned her.
Ann Brashares
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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Owned
Whereas
Sadness
Anger
Easier
Came
Back
Evaporated
Bridget
More quotes by Ann Brashares
I sometimes think the stronger you feel about someone, the harder it is to picture their face when you are away from them.
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She couldn’t hide from everyone for the rest of her life… Well she could. That was the direction things were going. But she knew from long-ago experience that when you were uncertain and if you were courageous enough to let her in a real friend could do a world of good.
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I was supposed to write a romantic comedy, but my characters broke up.
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What made you feel that stomach-churning agony for one person and not another? If Bridget were God, she would have made it against the law for you to feel that way about someone without them having to feel it for you right back.
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It’s natural to overlook and even sacrifice the things that belong to us most easily most gracefully. So here’s me asking you to please not make that mistake.
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You just have to let people love you in the way they can
Ann Brashares
She had never had a boy talk to her like that. There was no cover of bullshit, no flirtation, no added charm, but his look was searing. He was different from anyone she had known.
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Healing wasn’t always the best thing. Sometimes a hole was better left open. Sometimes it healed too thick and too well and left separate pieces fused and incompetent. And it was harder to reopen after that.
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She wasn't as destructive as Bee. She had never been as dramatic. Rather, she'd slipped carefully, stealthily away from her ghosts.
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All the things she planned to feel, the way she planned to look and seem, the appropriate things she planned to say. None of them came to pass.
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Lena realized that a fundamental layer of their happiness depended on the four of them being close to one another. Their lives were independent and full. Their friendship was only one aspect of their lives, but it seemed to give meaning to all the others.
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Someday was the thing he had, because it was a lot harder to ruin than today.
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I do believe that characters in novels belong to their writers and their readers pretty equally. I've learned a lot of things about the characters I write from people who read about them. Readers expand them in ways I don't think of and take them to places I can't go.
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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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He was the strangest of strangers in that he was also her oldest friend.
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She wondered again about her inclination to wish for things that made her so deeply unhappy.
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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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Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.
Ann Brashares
You get older and you learn there is one sentence just four worlds long and if you can say it to yourself it offers more comfort than almost any other. It goes like this… Ready ” “Ready.” “At least I tried.
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My household is, in a nice way, very busy.
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