Quotes from Sarah Dessen

When you don't know where you're going, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have more than you need.

D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, Austin... and you. I'll be there soon.

a song can take you back instantly to a moment, or a place, or even a person. No matter what else has changed in you or the world, that one song stays the same, just like that moment. Which is pretty amazing, when you actually think about it.

When you have lost hope, you lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.

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.

Love is an excuse to put up with shit that you shouldn't

It was like reaching for someone's hand, then missing their fingers, or even their arm, and hitting their shoulder instead. But no matter. You hang on tight anyway.

You want me to give her a key? the guy asked. I want you to give her a possibility, she told him, looking at my necklace again. And that's what a key represents. An open door, a chance. You know?

If you don't pay attention to the past, you'll never understand the future.It's all linked together.

Despite our differences, we did have a history. No one understood where I was coming from the way he did.

For any of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred of years from now. You can never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count.

Obviously it won't all run smoothly. But it's important to awknowledge that while we may make mistakes, in the long run, we may also learn fromt them.

My sister, who never understood most of the things I wanted her to, might have been able to understand what had happened to me in this summer of weddings and beginnings. And she was right. The first boy was always the hardest.

Told you. Everything sounds better in the car wash.

I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park. Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.

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.

It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again. It was what you couldn't see, those tiniest of pieces, that were lost in the severing, and their absence kept everything from being complete.

It was just perfect, just right all at once.

It's always very pure, that last moment before an ugly, unsettling truth hits someone. The most stark of before-and-afters.

Sometimes, you have to manufacture your own history. Give fate a push, so to speak.

It was such a weird thing how a breakup stretched much wider than you expected. You didn't just lose a person, but their entire world as well.

Maybe that's what you got when you stood over your grief, facing it finally. A sense of its depths, its area, the distance across, and the way over or around it, whichever you chose in the end.

This world is an awful/ugly place not to have a best friend.

Time wasn't a thing you could divide easily; there was no defined middle or beginning or end. I could pretend to leave the past behind, but it would not leave me.