Sarah Dessen Quotes

And yet shall Love himself be heard,Though long deferred, though long deferred:O'er the modern waste a dove hath whirred:Music is Love in search of a word.

I cannot sleep for dreaming; I cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though I'd find you coming through some door.

I haven't had that one great love, which is good. I don't want that to be in the past - I want it to be in the future.

For women who do not love us, as for the "disappeared", knowing that we no longer have any hope does not prevent us form continuing to wait. We live on our guard, on watch; women whose son has gone asea on a dangerous exploration imagine at any minute, although it has long been certain that he has perished, that he will enter, miraculously saved, and healthy.

I still love you. And sometimes, my friend, the love that I have, and can't give to you, crushes the breath from my chest. Sometimes, even now, my heart is drowning in a sorrow that has no stars without you, and no laughter, and no sleep.

I don't know if I'll find the cinnamon girl. I think I already did, but I'm still singing, who knows.

I know the odds are all against me and I know you might not feel this way too but I know I would rather die trying to know if I could mean something to you

I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I'll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky.

One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdain'd For thee to disdain it. One hope too like dispair For prudence to smother, I can give not what men call love: But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And heaven rejects not: The desire of the moth for the star, The devotion of something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?

Of course you want someone special to love you. A majority of the people who write to me inquire about how they can get the same thing... Unique as every letter is, the point each writer reaches is the same: I want love and I'm afraid I'll never get it. It's hard to answer those letters because I'm an advice columnist, not a fortune-teller. I have words instead of a crystal ball. I can't say when you'll get love or how you'll find it or even promise that you will. I can only say you are worthy of it and that it's never too much to ask for it.

If you were a star you'd be the one I'm searching for

Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened.

In Lilly's eyes her beautiful clear water eyes there is what I have sought and never found, wanted and never had, hoped for and never discovered. Love.

There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that he, turns out to be, someone to watch over me.

She knew what it felt like to stand in front of someone and ask them to love you, to try to pull them to you by the sheer force of your desire, a force so strong it felt as though you were going to die from it.

We measure our days out in steps of uncertainty not turning to see how far we've come. And peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.

In the silence of night I have often wished for just a few words of love from one man, rather than the applause of thousands of people.

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love.

Godot is whatever it is in life that you are waiting for: 'I'm waiting to win the lottery. I'm waiting to fall in love'. For me, as a child, it was Christmas. At least that eventually came.

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

Love becomes logically true when lost but still sought from the same source.

Maybe I'm too young to keep good love from going wrong, but tonight you're on my mind, so you never know.

If you look to any of our art, whether it's music, television, movies, art, anything - we seem to be really looking for love, and often in all the wrong places.

I can imagine they're asking for someone, and someone is asking for me. Everyone knows I keep asking for Wonderboy, and I will - I'll keep knocking on the door.

I wondered where he was now whether I would ever hear him again. Whether someone would love him, someday show him what beauty mean't.