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Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Sometimes
Memory
Keys
Memories
Sure
Poor
Happiness
Felt

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Sometimes it is a relief to be invisible
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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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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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Wear them, they will make you brave.
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It took the real thing to show you the size of your delusions.
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Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll pray you want me still.
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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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Love is like war easy to begin, hard to end.
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You surround yourself with your pain or you avoid it and let it find you when you are trying to do other things
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What can I say? I'm obsessed. And as we all know obsessed girls can't be held responsible for our actions.
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Relief is a short-lived emotion, passive and thin. The agony of doubt disappears, leaving little memory of how it really felt. Life aligns behind the new truth.
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You carry your past with you even if you don't remember any of it.
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We forgive and forget. At least I forgive and he forgets.
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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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It was wrong. But it was worth it.
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Show me a girl with her feet planted firmly on the ground and I'll show you a girl who can't put her pants on. -Annik Marchand
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No matter how far back you cut a willow tree, it will never really die.
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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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When she is happy, she can't stop talking, when she is sad she doesn't say a word.
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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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