Sarah Dessen’s “This Lullaby” Quotes (58 Quotes)

He always did the leaving. But not this time. She kept walking, and did not look back.

In a way, I was almost happy to see her. The worst part of me, out in the flesh. Blinking back at me in the dim light, daring me to call her a name other than my own.

The chances we take, knowing no better than to fall or to stand back and hold ourselves in... protecting our hearts with the tightest of grips.

He'd always had that fearless optimism that made cynics like me squirm. I wondered if it was enough for both of us. I would never know from here, though. And time was passing. Crucial minutes and seconds, each one capable of changing everything.

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.

The fate of your heart is your choice and no one else gets a vote

And for one second, it was like I could feel the timing clicking together, finally pieces falling into place.

Her life was perfect. But as was often the case, the rest of us were still adjusting.

It passed, though. That was the bad thing. It always passed.

The fate of your heat is your choice and no one else gets a vote.

And I felt a sudden whirl in my head, knowing this leap was inevitable, that I wasn't just standing on the cliff, toes poking over, but already in mid-air.

He's getting dumped. And he doesn't even know it yet. He's probably eating a cheeseburger or flossing or picking up his dry cleaning, and he has no idea. No inkling.

It seemed like this day could go in so many directions, like a spiderweb shooting out toward endless possibilities.

The lizard stared up at us, and we stared back, taking each other in. He was little and defenseless, I felt sorry for him already. This was a screwed-up place he'd just come into. But he didn't have to know that. Not yet, anyway. There in that room, where it was hot and cramped, the world probably still seemed small enough to manage.

And no relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater.

I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.

It was a basic plot in any number of her books: girl strikes out, makes good, finds love, gets revenge. In that order. The making good and striking out part I liked. The rest would just be bonus.

This is what daughters did. They left, and came home later with lives of their own.

Are those the only options? Nothing or forever?

I can say I made a lot of mistakes, but I don't regret things. Because at least I didn't spend a life standing outside, wondering what living would be like.

Just me and the future, finally together. Now there was a happy ending I could believe in.

Times like this it did seem real I was leaving, and even more that my family, and this life, would go on without me. And again I felt that emptiness rise up, but pushed it away. Still, I lingered there, in the doorway, memorizing the noise. The moment. Tucking it away out of sight, to be remembered when I needed it most.

As if he was beating me to the punch, his words living forever, while I was left speechless, no rebuttal, no words left to say.

I didn't trot my pain out to show around. I kept it better hidden than anyone. I did.

Life isn't only about the big moments whether they be good or bad. Maybe itÆs about the small things that stretch out to strengthen the most tenuous bound.

What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn't even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you and throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both.

But even more so, it reminded me that this was all really happening. Stanford. The end of the summer. The beginning of my real life. It was no longer just creeping up, peeking over the horizon, but instead lingering in plain sight.

I drove off, with my friends watching me go, all of them grouped on Lissa's hood. As I pulled onto the road, I glanced into the rearview and saw them: they were waving, hands moving through the air, their voices loud, calling out after me. The square of that mirror was like a frame, holding this picture of them saying good-bye, pushing me forward, before shifting gently out of sight, inch by fluid inch, as I turned away.

Love is needing someone. Love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you.

Whenever you made a choice, especially one you'd been resisting, it always affected everything else, some in big ways, like a tremor beneath your feet, others in so tiny a shift you hardly noticed a change at all. But it was happening.

But for now, I just sat there on the bed and listened to my song. The one that had been written for me by a man who knew me not at all, now sung by the one who knew me best.

I eased back on my elbows, tilting my head back to look up at the sky, which was pinkish, streaked with red. This was the time we knew best, that stretch of day going from dusk to dark. It seemed like we were always waiting for nighttime here. I could feel the trampoline easing up and down, moved by our own breathing, bringing us in small increments up and back from the sky as the colors faded, slowly, and the stars began to show themselves.

Love is so unpredictable. That what makes it so great

Writing a novel is like childbirth: once you realize how awful it really is, you never want to do it again.

But I always worked harder when I was up against something, or when someone assumed I couldn't succeed. That's what drove me, all those nights studying. The fact that so many figured I couldn't do it.

I just thought to my self, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.

Maybe marriage, like life, is'nt only about the big moments, whether they be good or bad. Maybe it's all the small things - like being guided slowly forward, surely, day after day - that stretches out to strengthen even the most tenuous bond.

Yes, it sucked getting dumped. But wasn't it better to just be brutally honest? To admit that your feeling for someone is never going to be powerful enough to justify taking up any more of their time? I was doing him a favor, really. Freeing him up for a better opportunity. In fact, I was a practically a saint, if you really thought about it. Exactly.

But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might no be forever?

I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented

No relationship is perfect, ever. There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater...The love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences. And that's the key. It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.

You bought me some forks. And knives. And spoons. Beacause - you love me!

But it was even worse when you knew at that very moment that there was still time to save yourself, and yet you couldnÆt even budge.

I meant what I said to you. I wasn't playing some kind of summer game. Everything I said was true, from the first day. EVERY GODDAMN WORD

Once, I was easy. Now, I was choosy. See? Big difference.

You know, when it works, love is pretty amazing. It's not overrated. There's a reason for all those songs.

But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over

I should have told you from the start. I will let you down.

She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.

But something, somehow, had made all these paths converge. You couldn't find it on a checklist, or work it into the equation. It just happened.