But I know this. We're ready to move forward again in our way. Together or apart, no matter how far apart, we… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
A tree is such a rich metaphor in a million beautiful ways. You can consider a tree growing and consider its connectedness… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
All the things she planned to feel, the way she planned to look and seem, the appropriate things she planned to say.… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
I knew her hair and her coloring and her shapes would be different next time, but the way she wore her body… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Tibby's wish would be to hold on to the idea of love even in the face of darkest doubt. Because that was… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
When your about to criticize someone walk a mile in thier shoes, that way when you criticize them you're a mile away… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Maybe they would look at each other and feel some odd yearning, but neither of them would know why. They would want… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
What made you feel that stomach-churning agony for one person and not another? If Bridget were God, she would have made it… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
How sad it was, Carmen thought, that you acted awful when you were desperately sad and hurt and wanted to be loved.… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Maybe you think you’ll be entitled to more happiness later by forgoing all of it now, but it doesn’t work that way.… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
She got under the covers and put her arms around the bag. She could smell Tibby. It used to be she couldn't… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
I love the idea of fictional worlds kind of all cohering in some way. — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
I mean putting yourself out there in the way of overwhelming happiness and knowing you're also putting yourself in the way of… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
There was nothing new in sitting on this dock, on this or that wooden bench, watching for his boat to come. In… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
She thought she would know when it happened. But now, as she looked around, she wondered if it was really like that… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
I do believe that characters in novels belong to their writers and their readers pretty equally. I've learned a lot of things… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Ruins stood for what was lost, and yet there were beautiful-peaceful, historic, intellectual. Not tragic or regrettable. Lena tried to keep hers… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
It wasn't just that Lucy wanted to help him. She wasn't as selfless as that. She was madly attracted to him. She… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
They were here all at once, but not together. Survival took self-absorption, and it made them strangers with nothing to do and… — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
The most haunting thing was not that he didn't love her anymore. She could have accepted that eventually. The most haunting thing… — 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
