It was like a dream you might have after death in which lost people came back to life, your friends loved you again no matter what you had done, and your failures were unaccountably forgiven. — Ann Brashares Copy Share Image
Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll… — 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
