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But there was something I liked about the idea of those seeds buried so deep having at least a chance to emerge
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Something
Buried
Seeds
Liked
Deep
Least
Chance
Idea
Ideas
Emerge
More quotes by Sarah Dessen
The true story...is the realization that no time in your life is ever perfect, that even the best memories have cracks you might not see.
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We laughed ourselves silly, taking back our shared past, gently, piece by piece.
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I wondered which was harder, in the end. The act of telling, or who you told it to. Or maybe if, when you finally got it out, the story was really all that mattered.
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It's okay to accept things from people. It doesn't make you weak or helpless.
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Failing sucks. But it's better than the alternative. Which is? Not even trying. Now he did look at me, straight on. Life's short, you know?
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This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm. Pull open, Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, He never remembers. It's so weird.
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The past did affect the present and the future, in ways you could see and a million ones you couldn't. Time wasn't a thing you could divide easily there was no defined middle or beginning or end. I could pretend to leave the past behind, but it would not leave me.
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Fine...a word that you said when someone asked how you were but didn't really care to know the truth.
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Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.
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It's so easy to get caught up in what people expect of you. Sometimes, you can just lose yourself.
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You can't just turn your heart off like a faucet you have to go to the source and dry it out, drop by drop.
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One word, Ted replied, dead serious, can change the whole world. There was a moment while we all considered this. Finally Lissa said to Chloe, loud enough for all of us to hear (she'd had a minibottle or two herself), I bet he did really well on his SATs.
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I looked down again at the sign in my hand - ENJOY THE RIDE! - and it seemed, suddenly, to be just that. A sign.
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The point,' Ms. Conyers continued, is that no word had one specific definition. Maybe in the dictionary, but not in real life.
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And that was as far as he got before i heard it. The thumping of footsteps, running up the lawn toward me: It seemed like I could hear it through the grass, like leaning your ear to a railroad track and feeling the train coming, miles away. As the noise got closer I could hear ragged breaths, and then a voice. It was my mother.
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But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over.
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Looking at the pond, all I could think was that it is an incredivle thing, how a whole world can rise from what seems like nothing at all.
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Nate: “And,” he said, “boys at twelve aren’t exactly slick with the ladies.” Ruby: “’Slick with the ladies’?” I said. “Are you twelve?
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You punched him by accident.
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If this was my forever, I wouldn't want to spend it here.
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