Sarah Dessen Quotes

I remember learning as a kid that love meant loneliness and confusion.

I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.

Knowing he was suffering pained me. That’s the way love tangles you up. I couldn’t stop loving him, and couldn’t shut off the feelings of wanting to care for him— but I also didn’t have to run to answer his letters. I was hurting, too, and no one was running to me.

What could he mean by speaking so, as if I were always thinking that he cared for me, when I know he does not; he cannot. ... But I won't care for him. I surely am mistress enough of myself to control this wild, strange, miserable feeling

in the caves of my heart, where pain taps out its rhythms and sorrow sets its loss, i am without direction.

Must being in love always mean being in pain?

I try to tighten my heart into a knot, a snarl, I try to learn to live dead, just numb, but then I see someone I want, and it's like a nail, like a hot spike right through my chest, and I know I'm losing.

Love must wait; it must break one’s bones.

The deeper the feeling, the greater the pain

Knowing they were in the same city again made the missing him flare up inside her. In her stomach. Why were people always going on and on about the heart? Almost everything Levi happened in Cath’s stomach.

As long as you draw breath anywhere -here or ten thousands miles from here- I will love you. I can't help loving you, so I choose to hate you...to make my love bearable.

As of right now, I am in love with her, and that love is the biggest problem in my life.

Rivers of tear drops, these sharp pains in my heart, if this was the way that you love, you never should have loved me

A part of her wanted to tell him she still loved him, and that even though this love was hopeless and long over, it still consumed her year after year. It was a tangled hairball of feelings and she couldn't pull forth any one strand.

My heart's in my hand, and my hand is pierced, and my hand's in the bag, and the bag is shut, and my heart is caught.

When love brings so much joy, why must it bring so much pain?

It hurts to love. It's like giving yourself to be flayed and knowing that at any moment the other person may just walk off with your skin.

Tatiana said. "Go on with Dasha. She is right for you. She is a woman and I'm-" "Blind!", Alexander exclaimed. Tatiana stood, desolately failing in the battle of her heart. "Oh, Alexander. What do you want from me..." "Everything", he whispered fiercely.

Grief is a bad moon, a sleeper wave. It's like having an inner combatant, a saboteur who, at the slightest change in the sunlight, or at the first notes of a jingle for a dog food commercial, will flick the memory switch, bringing tears to your eyes.

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that with most cutting grows, Most barren with best using.

Every little girl knows about love. It is only her capacity to suffer because of it that increases.

Great loves too must be endured.

I love us so incredibly, insanely deeply; it's almost unbearable to see what we do to ourselves.

I think that human beings, even the ones who are sometimes hurting you, are often very, very confused at their center.