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All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.
Sarah Dessen
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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Space
Vain
Left
Spread
Stories
Tried
Quiet
Behinds
Room
Behind
Settled
Rooms
Fill
More quotes by Sarah Dessen
Some things don't last forever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down on the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognize the person you see there.
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Sometimes. It was a good escape. Until, you know, it wasn‟t.
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He's very nice. He's something I replied. She considered this zipping her purse shut. Then she said Well everyone is. Everyone is Something. For some reason that stuck with me simple and yet not every since she'd said it. It was like a puzzle as well two vague words with one clear one between them.
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Self respect, Colie. If you don't have it, the world will walk all over you.
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What you need, what you deserve, is a guy who adores you for what you are. Who doesn't see you as a project, but a prize. you know?
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He wasn't what I'd thought he was maybe he never had been. I wasn't what I'd thought I was, either.
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Never would forever, with all its meanings, be so clear and distinct as in the true, guaranteed end of the world.
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No, no, no to Tallyho.
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I took in a breath. What's the one thing you'd do, I asked. if you could do anything? Pass, he said. For a second I was sure I'd heard wrong. What? He cleared his throat. I said, I pass. Why? He turned his head and looked at me. Because. Because why? Because I just do.
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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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Editing is hard but nowhere NEAR as tough as facing that blank page and blinking cursor each day. You're all alone and no one else can do it. At least with editing you have someone in the trench with you.
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I have SO many books I didn't sell. Some my agent rejected outright, others made it all the way to my editor to be turned away. Not everything is a winner, which is tough when you've devoted eight or nine months of your life to something.
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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 didn't want to talk about what happened, so it seemed safest not to talk at all.
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Like a word on a page that you’ve printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign. And you feel scared for a second, like you’ve lost something, even if you’re not sure what it is.
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I thought of all the times we'd been together, how I kept coming closer, then retreating, while he stayed right where he was. A constant in a world where few, if any, really existed.
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When you can't save yourself or your heart, it helps to be able to save face.
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In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.
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If this was my instinct talking, I didn‟t want to hear what it was saying.
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I am not breaking my rules,' I snapped, hating that I'd ended up on the advice-recieving end of things, jumping from Dear Remy to Confused in Cincinnati all in one summer.
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