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Everything, in the end, comes down to timing. One second, one minute, one hour could make all the difference.
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Make
Difference
Second
Minutes
Differences
Hours
Lullaby
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Timing
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Minute
Everything
Hour
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So this had been all I wanted, a boy who understood how I felt. Now, though, I sometimes wished for more.
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It's the same thing,' I told her. 'What is?' 'Being afraid and being alive.' 'No,' she said slowly, and now it was as if she was speaking a language she knew at first I wouldn't understand, the very words, not to mention the concept, being foreign to me. 'Macy, no. It's not.
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Welcome to adulthood, she said. It sucks as much as high school.
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No matter how much time has passed, these things still affect us and the world we live in. If you don't pay attention to the past, you'll never understand the future. It's all linked together.
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I love YA, and it's been a really good fit for me. But at some point, I would like to try something else: a collection of short stories, or writing about something other than high school. A lot has happened to me since I was eighteen.
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I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.
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That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about.
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The end of a wedding reception is always so depressing. And only the bride and groom are spared, jetting off into the sunset while the rest of us wake up the next morning to just another day.
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See for me, it’s immediate. Silence is so freaking loud.' This seemed either deep or deeply oxymoronic. I wasn’t sure which.
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Again, it occurred to me how weird it was to be permanent in a place that to everyone else was only temporary. Like I could never be sure if they were the ones who weren't real, or if I was.
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You just looked... she said, searching for the word, taken, you know? Plus you hardly reacted to Wes. I mean, you did alittle, but nothing like most girls. It was a little swoon. Not a sa-woon, you know? I said, Sa-woon? Oh, come on, she said shaking her head. Even a blind girl could tell he is amazing.
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I'm really interested in the idea of anomynity and familiarity. And sunglasses, you know, are so indicatitve of that. I mean, they're worn by some people to hide themselves. But they're also a fashion statement, meant to be noticed. So there's a dichotomy there.
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Because maybe, the best of times were yet to come. You never knew.
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I took his wildness from him and tried to fold it into myself, filling up the empty spaces all those second place finishes left behind.
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Oh darling, don't be bitter. It's the first instinct of the weak.
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As if at the age of eighteen life already sucked beyond any hope of improvement.
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Morning would come before we knew it. It always did. But we still had the night, and for now, we were together, so I just closed my eyes and drank it all in.
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The lizard stared up at us, and we stared back, taking each other in. He was little and defenseless, I felt sorry for him already. This was a screwed-up place he'd just come into. But he didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway. There in that room, where it was hot and cramped, the world probably still seemed small enough to manage.
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