Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn't get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of her apartment, walk forever if… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“Because the truth wouldn't be comforting and wouldn't bring them closer again.” — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“¿Iban a sumirla en la tristeza antes de hacerla feliz? No, por favor.” — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“When she made her way to the big picture window that framed the dining room table she froze. She stopped breathing. The anger was… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“Lena remembered herself in all the old familiar things they said. She existed in her friends; there she was. All the parts of herself… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“but it was hard to give the real world much notice when he was this close.” — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
“You don't have time, Len. That is the most bitter and the most beautiful piece of advice I can offer. If you don't have… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Gestating characters feels something like the mental equivalent of gestating a baby. In both cases, to create them you lose yourself. Or at least… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
The weather turned. Her skin seemed to grow a million extra pores, and all of them opened to take in the warmth and tenderness… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
