Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessen
Sarah Dessenis an American writer who lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth6 June 1970
CityEvanston, IL
differences easy bigs
Once, I was easy. Now, I was choosy. See? Big difference.
care easy
Was it really this easy, once you escaped, to just not care?
mean understanding easy
Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn't. But understanding... that's where things get sticky.
commitment easy
I've seen what commitment leads to. Going in is the easy part. It's the ending that sucks! -Remy
want easy backwards
Maybe you could go backwards and forwards at the same time, but it wasn't easy. You had to want to.
enough easy persons
It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.
life past easy
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It's so easy in the past tense.
gone easy
It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.
thinking differences easy
I wasn’t ready to think about the other yet: that it wasn’t that I wasn’t right for Macon, but that maybe he wasn’t right for me. There was a difference. Even for someone who things didn’t come easy for, someone like me.
leaving easy hard
Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was so damned hard.
fiction hard tendency weakness
I have a tendency to embellish: I think it's a weakness of fiction writers. Once you know how to make a story better, it's hard not to do it all the time.
illinois remember hills
I was born in 1970 in Illinois, but all the life I remember I've spent in Chapel Hill, N.C.
distance night light
From this distance, in the dimness, the model looked surreal, made up of parts filled with buildings, bordered by long stretches of empty space. It reminded me of the way cities and towns look when you are flying at night. You can't make out much. But the places where people have come together, and stayed, are collections of tiny lights, breaking up the darkness.
real eye light
I walked over, my eyes scanning Luna Blu, my house, and Dave's. But it was the building behind them, that empty hotel, that had the tiniest light, provided by one word, written in fluorescent paint. Maybe it wasn't what was once there, in real life. But in this one, it said it all: STAY.