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Sarah Dessen

"Isn't it weird the way you remember things, when someone's gone?"

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"Isn't it weird the way you remember things, when someone's gone?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Sometimes to return is a vulgarity."

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Amber Hurdle

"I was in '78 recently," he announced. "I brought you this."He handed me a single by the Beatles. I didn't recognize the title."Didn't they split in '70?""Not always. How are things?"

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Amber Hurdle

"And my grandmother had bought them in preference to other books, just as she would have preferred to take a house that had a gothic dovecot, or some other such piece of antiquity as would have a pleasant effect on the mind, filling it with a nostalgic longing for impossible journeys through the realms of time."

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Amber Hurdle

"I used to be a poet.My words were traded in marketplaces like pieces of gold.Merchants bought my verses for as much as they paid for saffron and Indian jade.Now I am old...drunk on wine and candle fumes.Alone in this barren room, I speak my psalms to the night air so as to entertain moths before they go off to die.I used to be a poet and my words were gold."

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Amber Hurdle

"Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe."

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Amber Hurdle

"The older I get, the more I appreciate my rural childhood. I spent a lot of time outdoors, unsupervised, which is a blessing."

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Amber Hurdle

"I have been a refugee for the last forty years in the luminous land of opportunity. Still my heart is aching with hiraeth for my native land."

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Amber Hurdle

"Still in my mind the old days scenario is playing OVER AND OVER."

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Amber Hurdle

"In her final years she would still recall the trip that, with the perverse lucidity of nostalgia, became more and more recent in her memory."

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Sarah Dessen
"Sure, it sucked to be lost, but I'd long ago realized I preferred it to depending on anyone else to get me where I needed to go. That was the thing about being alone, in theory or in principle. Whatever happened- good, bad, or anywhere in between- it was always, if nothing else, all your own."
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Sarah Dessen
"So you're always honest," I said."Aren't you?""No," I told him. "I'm not.""Well, that's good to know, I guess.""I'm not saying I'm a liar," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways.""How'd you mean it, then?""I just...I don't always say what I feel.""Why not?""Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said."Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though."
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Sarah Dessen
"With love like that, you can't get pick about how it finds you or the details. All that matters is that it's there. Better late than never."
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Sarah Dessen
"It was great. Freedom even the imagined kind always is."
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Sarah Dessen
"It wasn't about being happy or unhappy. I just didn't want to be me anymore."
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Sarah Dessen
"You couldn't just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. It wasn't like a light switch, easy to turn on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out."
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Sarah Dessen
"It took a lot of work to be perfect. If you didn't want to break a sweat, there was no point in even bothering."
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Sarah Dessen
"It was amazing how you could get so far from where you'd planned, and yet find it was exactly were you needed to be."
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Sarah Dessen
"You always think you want to be noticed. Until you are."
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Sarah Dessen
"But as long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential."
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