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How fast were you? Wes asked me. I said, Not that fast. You mean you couldn't... fly? he said, smiling at me.

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Smiling
Fast
Couldn
Asked
Mean

More quotes by Sarah Dessen

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The mistakes you make now count. Not for everything, and not forever. But they do matter, and they shape you.If you take nothing else from what I've been through, at least remember this: make your choices well. Because you'll always be accountable for them. That's what being an adult is all about.
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It's funny how someone's perception of you can be formed without you even knowing it.
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None of it meant anything, and all of it was important.
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Family isnt about blood relationships, its about the meaning behind them. I relize now that sharing chromosoms is not the only way to having a family, its about the friendship behind it.
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I don't lie. You don't lie, I repeated. That's what I said. Ever. Nope. Sure you don't, I thought.
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I was born in 1970 in Illinois, but all the life I remember I've spent in Chapel Hill, N.C.
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I don't know. Just because someone's pretty doesn't mean she's decent. Or vice versa. I'm not into appearances. I like flaws, I think they make things interesting.
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See, Colie, it's all about understanding. We're all worth something.
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n the dark everyone felt the same: the edges blurred. When I think of myself then, what I was like two years ago, I feel like a wound in a bad place, prone to be bumped on corners or edges. Never able to heal.
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She was just a shell of her former self, functioning and talking but hardly alive.
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When I pictured myself, it was always like just an outline in a colouring book, with the inside not yet completed.
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It's funny how two people can grow up in the same town, go to the same school, have the same friends, and end up so totally different. Family, or lack of it, counts for more than you'd think.
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And so we stood there in the kitchen, my mother and I, facing off over everything that had built up since June, when I was willing to hand myself over free and clear. Now I needed her to return it all to me, with the faith that I could make my own way.
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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 wasn’t so much that I was positive. I just wasn’t fully subscribing to such a negative way of thinking anymore.
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But anyone can begin. It was the part with all the promise, the potential, the things I loved. More and more, though, I was finding myself wanting to find out what happened in the end.
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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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It sounded stupid, but of course everything does when you're just getting the bare bones facts, only the basics.
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Music is a total constant. That's why we have such a strong visceral connection to it, you know? Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in your or the world, that one song says the same, just like that moment.
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I realized how truly hard it was, really, to see someone you love change right before your eyes. Not only is it scary, it throws your balance off as well.
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