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Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.
Jennifer Donnelly
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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Sleeping
Deeper
Listening
Knew
Sleep
Guy
Much
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Airports should all belong to the same country. The country of Crappacia. Or Bleakovania. Or Suckitan.
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She's got a big belt around her hips. It has a shiny buckle with PRADA on it, which is Italian for insecure.
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The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.
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Only the hopeless love God.
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I just love historical fiction.
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History is a Rorschach test, people. What you see when you look at it tells you as much about yourself as it does about the past.
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She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.
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I think your vision gets better as you get older.
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Sometimes, when you catch someone unaware at just the right time and in just the right light, you can catch sight of what they will be.
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Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either
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For the first time, I saw what was in his heart, and I wondered if he might ever want to look deep enough to see mine.
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I've always admired your rather formidable will, your refusal to back away from difficulties, but sometimes strength isn't about perseverance. Sometimes it's about knowing when to quit.
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Bravery is feeling fear but doing the thing anyway.
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Never take what's offered, always ask for more.
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Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insame. Hey, let's have a crepe.
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The guitar's still around me. I slip it off and put it down. I want to feel him. To feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his skin. To feel something other than sadness. Hold me, I tell him silently. Hold me here. To this place. This life. Make me want you. Want this. Want something. Please
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Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine.
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Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.
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I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.
Jennifer Donnelly