Sarah Quotes
As he heard me approach, he quickly leaped up, grabbing a nearby loaf of bread and holding it in front of him as if struck by a sudden desire to make a sandwich.
He was the closest thing I'd ever had to something, or someone, that mattered. But in the end, close didn't count. You were either in, or you weren't.
But against love, the case was solid. Easily argued. And you could, indeed, hold it in your hand.
I took his wildness from him and tried to fold it into myself, filling up the empty spaces all those second place finishes left behind.
I had this wild thought that he was the only one in all this chaos who was just like me, and that was comforting and profound all at once.
It was like that part of my life, was just gone. It was almost too easy, for something I once thought had meant everything.
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.
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.
call it crazy, or just chicken salad. But within reason, or without it i was in it too.
You just walk over there and into the office and say, 'Hey, be my prom date,'" he said. "It's that simple.
What," I said, "is that a crime here or something? Like only buying one thing at the Gas/Gro?
Who says there has to be a point?" He asked. "Or a reason. Maybe it's just something you have to do.
An empty frame, in which the picture is always changing, makes a statement about how time is always passing. It doesn't really stop, even in a single image. I t just feels that way.
But if something was really important, fate made sure it somehow came back to you and gave you another chance.
That's not a real answer.' Says who?' Says me. I mean real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that. Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence.' Clowns.
You know, feeling and action are always linked, one can't exist without the other. It's sort of a hippie thing.
I'm always hopeful. I feel like I'm at the prom sitting against the wall waiting for someone to ask me to dance.
I've seen what commitment leads to. Going in is the easy part. It's the ending that sucks! -Remy
"What was the name of Pygmalion's sister?" She blinked, twice, obviously surprised. "Ummm," she said, keeping her eyes on me. "I don't know." Rogerson did," I told her. "Rogerson knew everything."
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.
An ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.
How weird was it that so many bits and pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. 'Perfect.
You can't just turn your heart off like a faucet; you have to go to the source and dry it out, drop by drop.
I knew I had to keep him to myself, as I'd slowly begun to keep everything. We had secrets now, truths and half-truths, that kept her always at arm's length, behind a closed door, miles away.
I've given lots of people chances. But there's only so much faith you can have in people.
The point,' Ms. Conyers continued, "is that no word had one specific definition. Maybe in the dictionary, but not in real life.
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.
I wondered if he ever thought of me, and hated the pang I felt when I told myself he didn't.
It's not forever', she'd said, but to my mother, it might as well have been. She had make her choice, and this was it, where she felt safe, in a world she could, for the most part, control.
It was so weird, because usually I was totally nervous talking to guys. But Eli was different. He made me want to say more, not less. Which was maybe not a good thing.
We both know the limits of this relationship. It's understood. And as long as we're both comfortablewith that, nobody gets hurt. It's basic.
Maybe it was true, and being a girl could be about interest rates and skinny jeans, riding bikes and wearing pink. Not about any one thing, but everything.
The basic fact is that no, this isn't ideal. Very few things are. Sometimes, you have to manufacture your own history. Give fate a push,so to speak.