Maybe other writers have perfect first drafts, but I am not one of them. I always try to get the book as… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I really just love to read, period, whether it be books or magazines or the back of the cereal box. It's the… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I feel like Twitter was tailor-made for me, because I can do short spurts all day long. I loved my blog, but… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I've been writing, in one way or another, for as long as I can remember. — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
There's this other half of him I don't know of, it's like he is trying to keep it a secret... if he… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
Usually when I finish the draft of a book, I'm sure I'll never write another one. I'm just that tired and sick… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I honestly don't have many creative outlets. I'm not crafty - although motherhood has forced me to try to be - and… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
“At times, I found myself questioning his very existence, even though I knew I had, in fact, spotted him, with my own eyes.” — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
You don't have to say it out loud. I already know why you like me.' 'You do, huh?' 'Yep.' He wrapped his arms around… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
When you had to do something, you had to do it. And eventually, if you were lucky, you did it well. — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
I had no illusions about love anymore. It came, it went, it left casualties or it didn't. People weren't meant to be together forever,… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
“But maybe that isn't so bad. You can't love anyone that way more than once in a lifetime. It's too hard and it hurts… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
This was just one night, one chance to vary and see where it took me. The fireflies were probably already out: maybe it wasn’t… — Sarah Dessen Copy Share Image
