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As a writer, you live in such isolation. It's hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.

Ann Brashares

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Ann Brashares
Age: 57
Born: 1967
Born: July 30
Film Writer
Novelist
Writer
City of Alexandria
Virginia
Beyond
Writer
Imagine
Live
Book
Hard
Life
Isolation

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Marnie hated to see her spend so much of herself on someone who didn't care.
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Let me love you, but don't love me back. Do love me and let me hate you for a while. Let me feel like I have some control, because I know I never do.
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But I know this. We're ready to move forward again in our way. Together or apart, no matter how far apart, we live in one another. We go on together.
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Blood may be thicker than water, but friendship is thicker than both.
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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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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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I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.
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You should find him because he loves you.
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There are going to be moments of deep, deep doubts, and you have to have faith that your initial idea was good and just muddle through.
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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.
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He was the strangest of strangers in that he was also her oldest friend.
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All my life, everybody has seen me a certain way. What do you see?
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She got tired of herself. She got tired of not being able to say what she wanted or do what she wanted or even want what she wanted.
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Starting is hard so I really need to give myself permission to do a bad job. I always give myself leave to write total nonsense for as long as I need to release the pressure, because it's really hard to start if you feel like that first sentence you write has to actually mean something.
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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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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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But it was smell that carried memory.
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some people fall in love over and over again while some people can only do it once.
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She loved her mother and depended on her mother, and yet every single word her mother said annoyed her.
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I told him, though, that he better be good to you. When you came along, I said I'd share you, but I told him to remember that you're my sister. I loved you first.
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