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Maybe, you just misplaced it, you know? It's been there. But you just haven't been looking in the right spot. Because lost means forever, it's gone. But misplaced... that means it's still around, somewhere. Just not where you thought.
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Mean
Gone
Spot
Means
Spots
Lost
Somewhere
Around
Havens
Thought
Haven
Stills
Maybe
Still
Forever
Right
Looking
Misplaced
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I feel like Twitter was tailor-made for me, because I can do short spurts all day long. I loved my blog, but doing daily, then thrice weekly entries was really time consuming. 140 characters is perfect.
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It was so weird, because usually I was totally nervous talking to guys. But Eli was different. He made me want to say more, not less. Which was maybe not a good thing.
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I should have told you from the start. I will let you down.
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You don't have to make things harder then they have to be just to prove a point.
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Because you have to just go with the flow. Your life is not your own, with people coming in and out all the time. You get mellow because you have to.
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The silence wasn't like the ones I'd known lately, though: it wasn't empty as much as chosen. There's a entirely different feel to quiet when you're with some-one else, and at any moment it could be broken. Like the difference between a pause and an ending.
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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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It was like discovering that some part of you wasn't yours at all. And it made me wonder what else I couldn't claim.
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I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone. As long as I didn't say it aloud, it wasn't real.
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It's always been hard to call myself a writer. I think a part of me still thinks it's too good to be true.
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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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After the group vet appointment--during which Lyle scratched the vet, the vet tech, and some poor woman minding her own business in the waiting room--we went back to Sabrina's and re-released the cats to their natural habitat.
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Rogerson, I asked him sweetly as we sat watching a video in the pool house, where would I find the pelagic zone? In the open sea, he said. Now shut up and eat your Junior Mints.
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I can say I made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret things. Because at least I didn't spend a life standing outside, wondering what living would be like.
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I'm just writing what I know. I've never been much of a reader of fantasy, and I think you write what you, personally, enjoy reading.
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There's this other half of him I don't know of, it's like he is trying to keep it a secret... if he would just let me inside so I can help.
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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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You asked me to go out with you. I know you probably changed your mind. But you should know, the answer was yes. It's always been yes when it comes to you.
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So what do you wear to dump somebody? she asked me, twirling a lock of hair around one finger. Black, for mourning? Or something cheerful and colorful, to distract them from their pain? Or maybe you wear some sort of camouflage, something that will help you disappear quickly in case they don't take it well.
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You should have seen your face, she said, her breath hot in my ear. Sa-woooon.
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