Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessenis an American writer who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth6 June 1970
CityEvanston, IL
mother strong heart
I watched my mother do what she did best, and realized there would never be a way to cut myself from her entirely. No matter how strong or weak I was, she was a part of me, as crucial as my own heart. I would never be strong enough, in all my life, to do without her.
perfect pieces diverse
How weird was it that so many bits and pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. 'Perfect.
believe silence kind
Once, this had been the life I’d wanted. Even chosen. Now, though, I couldn’t believe that there had been a time when this kind of monotony and silence, this most narrow of existences, had been preferable. Then again, once, I’d never known anything else.
way intention best-intentions
Life has a way of disregarding even your best intentions.
sadness mirrors light
He was looking at me, jsut as I'd thought he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I felt.
mother fall two
This was always the problem with my mother and me, I suddenly realized. There were so many things we thought we agreed on, but anythign can have two meanings. Like sides of a coin, it just matters how it falls.
world know-how knows
The world is speaking to you every day, you just don't know how to listen.
sweet night eggs
Morgan sighed. "I," she announced, "am so pathetic." "You are not," I said. "I am." She went over and straightened the cling wrap, corner to corner. "Do you know how many times I've brought in devilled eggs? This is, like, the only time I haven't been sobbing and that's only 'cause I cried all night. And Norman," she said, her voice rising to a wail, "sweet Norman, always just acts so surprised to see the eggs, and pleased, and he never, once, has ever acted like he knew what they meant.
dad your-dad wanted
Eventually, it wasn't even your dad I wanted, just anybody. Anybody at all.
matter like-me
It doesn't matter, anyway, why you like me. Just that you do.
firsts world hours
In those first few hours officially single again the world seems like it expands, suddenly bigger and more vast now that you have to get through it alone.
daughter home left
This is what daughters did. They left, and came home later with lives of their own.
thinking ideas people
He shook his head. "Some people think that they like music,but they have no idea what it's really about. They're kindding themselves. Then there are people who feel strongly about music, but just aren't listening to the right stuff. They're misguided. And then there are people like me." ... "People like you," I said. "What kind of people are those?" ... "The kind who live for music and are constantly seeking it out, anywhere they can. Who can't imagine a life without it. They're enlightened.
fighting thinking would-be
I wondered again why the right thing always seemed to be met with so much resistance, when you'd think it would be the easier path. You had to fight to be virtuous...