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That was the thing about being on the inside: the world was just going on, even when it seemed like time for you had stopped for good.

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Like
Stopped
World
Seemed
Inside
Even
Thing
Going
Good
Time

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Maybe other writers have perfect first drafts, but I am not one of them. I always try to get the book as tight as I can, but you reach a point as the author where you have lost all perspective.
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I'd been running for years: there was nothing scarier, to me, than to just be still with someone. And yet, there on that dark road, going home, I was.
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I mean, it's not surprising, really. Once you love something, you always love it in some way. You have to. It's, like, part of you for good.
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I was bored. Sad. Lonely. It was only a matter of time before I cracked.
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I wasn't ready for this, but then I probably never would be, and this year, like so much else, wouldn't wait. I had no choice but to get out of my car, with everyone watching and begin in earnest, alone. So I did
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Forgiveness is hard. Acceptance is doable.
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You know, I told him,if you don't know how to eat a cupcake, that's nothing to be ashamed of. Now he did smile. I know how to eat a cupcake. Sure you do. I do, he said. I just don't want one of those. Yeah? Prove it.
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During the long stretches of quiet two-lane highway, with the sun setting in the distance, it was somehow easier to say things aloud, and regardless of what was said, we just kept moving toward that horizon.
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You didn't fail. You just opted out. There's a difference.
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We all have one idea of what the color blue is, but pressed to describe it specifically, there are so many ways: the ocean, lapis lazuli, the sky, someone's eyes. Our definitions are as different as we are ourselves.
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It's hard to be nice when the rest of the world is so mean.
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This is personal, she'd said. Real. This moment was too, even if you couldn't see it at first glance. It was fake on the outside, but so true within. You only had to look, really look to tell.
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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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Some things you don't have to tell. Some things, between sisters, are understood.
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Once I turned eighteen, I could cut myself off from everyone and finally get what I wanted, which was to be on my own, once and for all. ~Ruby, pg 38
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No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater.
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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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Who would have thought that grieving an old relationship and enjoying a new one could happen simultaneously, in parallel? Yet another thing you only find out once it's happening to you.
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The language of solace, and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.
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It was just one of those things, I said, You know, that just happen. You don't think or plan. You just do it.
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